Good Intentions
by TrekScribbles
Summary: Little Joe is sick of being little, so when the Carson City bank is robbed he takes his chance to prove to everybody that he can handle things on his own. When he goes missing, it's up to 22-year-old Adam- who's been left in charge while Pa is away on business- to track him down and attempt to find both his little brother and the robbers before Pa returns.
1. Chapter 1

"Joe?" Adam yelled. He paused for a response, but when none came he pulled on his boots and stormed out the front door. It was ten o'clock, far past Little Joe's bedtime, and the troublesome child was missing again. Adam paused outside the barn, where he always looked first whenever Joe disappeared, and took a deep breath to force his annoyance from his face. Slowly, so as not to disturb the animals inside, Adam stepped into the barn.

The silhouette of his youngest brother could just be seen beside the shadow of his pony. Joe's little boy hands reached up and tugged at the reins, as if he were about to mount.

"Joe."

Joe jumped at the sound of Adam's voice, spinning around to face his oldest brother. "I wasn't doing anything," he said quickly, yanking the reins behind his back and making the pony neigh in surprise.

Adam sighed, crossing the space between them with carefully measured steps. It had been three days since Pa had gone for Sacramento, leaving the twenty-two-year-old Adam to take care of things. This wasn't the first time he had stepped in when Ben had had to leave, but this was the longest amount of time Adam had ever had to be in charge. Joe was rebelling, which was nothing new, but Adam was finding it harder and harder to keep his patience with his ten-year-old brother.

"Come on now," Adam said, keeping his voice light. "You can tell me."

Joe looked skeptical, his green eyes narrowed cautiously. "You'll get mad."

"Maybe," Adam admitted. "But maybe I won't. Maybe I'll be happy."

The boy paused, looking anywhere but Adam's face, fiddling with the reins. "I just wanted to help, honest."

"Help what?" Adam pressed, though he was pretty sure he knew.

Joe glanced up, and Adam almost laughed at the look he read in his brother's face. It was the look of a child who knows more than the adults think he does. A look that said clearly _I know you know, and I know you just want me to say it._

"Help catch the robbers," he finally answered, a slightly annoyed edge in his voice. "You and Hoss were out all day, and Hoss isn't that much older than me."

"You helped us look," Adam pointed out.

"I rode with Hoss," his brother corrected. "It's not the same. I want to help _look!_ It doesn't do any good to ride with Hoss- he's a better tracker than anyone else. I won't find anything that he doesn't already see."

_Well, he's right there,_ Adam admitted silently. "Then you can ride with me."

"You can track too," Joe frowned. "And so can the Sheriff. And so can I! I found that fox, didn't I? I tracked it!"

"Sure you did," Adam soothed, deciding not to bring up the fact that the fox had been shot and had left a very obvious trail of scarlet through a field of untouched snow. "I know you can track, it's just that…"

The boy's chin rose, his green eyes hard, as if knowing what Adam was thinking and daring him to say it. When he didn't, Joe said it for him. "Just that I'm too little."

Adam inhaled, trying to buy time to think of some other way to word it. He couldn't. "It's only for your own safety. You know that, don't you? I couldn't do anything when I was your age either, and neither could Hoss. But we can now. It made us mad, too, but there was nothing we could do but wait. Don't worry; in no time at all you'll be riding off all alone, and no one will tell you you're too little."

Hoping fervently that his answer would pacify his little brother, Adam patted Joe's shoulder and steered him toward the barn door. "And see? You got to stay up later than Hoss. He's already in bed!"

"I didn't _get_ to stay up later, I just did." Joe pointed out sullenly, allowing himself to be directed out the door. He'd already defied Adam's authority by staying up and sneaking out (even if Adam did find him), and bed didn't seem like such a terrible sentence. Besides, there was always tomorrow. Maybe he could talk Hoss into helping him.

Adam could practically hear the wheels in his youngest brother's head turning, but he stayed silent. It was just the way that Joe was, and he really didn't mean any harm by it. Besides, there was always tomorrow. Maybe he could talk Hoss into helping him.

"Good night, Joe," Adam said, pushing him gently into his room. "Don't forget to clean up before you get into bed."

"I know." Joe tried to sound irritated while stifling a yawn. "G'night."

With a sigh, Adam shut his brother's door and prayed that Pa would be home soon.


	2. Chapter 2

"Y'sure y'ain't seen Joe this mornin'?" Hoss pressed, fork frozen between his plate and his mouth.

"I already said I haven't," Adam snapped. He paced in front of the fireplace, hands ever moving from his temples to his hips to his chin in a worried circle.

"Well he can't've gone far," Hoss said, dropping his fork and standing up. "It's barely even light out!"

Adam didn't say anything, just continued his fretting. Hoss' brows knit together as he read the concern in his older brother's face. "D'you know where he went?"

Adam stopped pacing. His back was toward Hoss, hand raised to cover his mouth thoughtfully. Hoss could see the muscles on his back tense for a moment before he said, "He told me last night that he wanted to help find the robbers."

"The robbers?" Hoss repeated blankly. "But he was lookin' with us yesterday."

"He wanted to go by himself." Adam shook his head, still facing the fireplace. "He said he could track too, and he wasn't doing any good following you."

"But you don't think he…" Hoss let the words trail off, unwilling to finish the thought out loud.

Adam suddenly whipped around, slamming his hands on the table. "One day that boy is going to get himself into trouble so deep even we won't bail him out." He pushed himself off toward the door, snatching up his gun belt as he crossed the room. Hoss struggled to find a word for the motion; it was halfway between a glide and a stomp, angry but graceful at the same time. Only Adam could pull off a walk like that. "Come on, Hoss, we're gonna-"

"Mr. Adam not leave yet!" cried a slightly out of breath voice from the kitchen. Hop Sing burst into the room a second later, holding a dripping plate and a towel. "Mr. Adam no can leave yet, must wait for Little Joe."

"Wait for Joe," Adam repeated, hands frozen in the task of adjusting his belt. "We're _looking_ for Joe."

"Hop Sing send Little Joe to get him good wood for fire, not lealize how low woodpile was. Little Joe say not let blothers leave without him."

Hoss sat down, looking bewildered. "Ain't that just like Little Joe. Git us all worried 'n he's just off doin' sumthin' fer Hop Sing." He let out a laugh that shook the table and picked up his fork, waving it at Adam. "You sit down'n eat before yer mouth drops to the floor."

Adam clamped his jaw shut, not realizing it had been open. "Then… he's just outside?"

Hop Sing rubbed the corner of the towel over the plate. "Just get wood for Hop Sing. Not be long."

As if on cue, Joe pushed through the door with an armful of sticks, nearly hitting Adam as he entered. "Sorry-" He fought for his balance for a moment before heading for the kitchen. "Where d'you want these?"

"Just in kitchen fine," Hop Sing said. "On pile by stove, Hop Sing move later. Just need wood for start fire."

"Here," Adam interjected, reaching down and taking a few of the larger sticks from his brother's arms. "You go eat, I'll get these."

Joe allowed him to take the wood and brushed some bits of bark from his shirt. His green eyes glanced from his eldest brother to the door, noting how close the two had been to each other. "You weren't gonna leave without me, were you?"

"Well now, Little Joe, we couldn't hardly leave without our best tracker, could we?" Hoss said, waving him over to him. "C'mon'n have breakfast, 'n we'll set out just as soon as we're done."

With one last glance at Adam, Joe made his way over to the table and sat beside Hoss, looking slightly suspicious. Adam looked away guiltily, shifting the wood in his arms as he walked to the kitchen. What had happened? It wasn't like him to jump to conclusions like he did. Joe _was_ only trying to help, after all, and Adam hadn't even given him the benefit of the doubt. He set the sticks down by the stove as Hop Sing had instructed and exited the kitchen, sitting himself down across from Joe and loading his plate with eggs and ham.

"You hungry this morning, Joe?" he asked lightly, trying to make up for his outburst.

Joe shrugged, stabbing a chunk of meat and twirling it about the plate. Adam resisted the urge to frown. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Hoss beat him to it.

"Y'ain't gonna be able to find much if y'don't eat your breakfast," he said through a mouthful of eggs. "We'll need all the help we c'n get today."

Joe glanced at Hoss and raised the fork to his mouth. "Sorry."

"Y'ain't gotta 'plolgize for it, Little Joe." Hoss said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "I was just sayin', is all."

Hoss met Adam's eyes as they darted between his brothers, and read the confusion in them. Adam was trying so hard to fill Pa's shoes that he'd forgotten how to act like a brother. Hoss smiled slightly and glanced at Joe. Sometimes brothers had to be leaders, but sometimes they were co-conspirators.

"Adam, you done?" he asked, eyeing the other's barely-touched food.

Adam looked up in surprise. "I… yeah, I guess I am."

"Why don't you get the horses ready." Hoss offered. "Joe'n I'll be out soon."

Adam knew a hint when he heard one. With a nod at Little Joe, he stood and left, grabbing his hat as he went.

Hoss turned to his remaining brother and sighed. "Alright, Little Joe. 'S no use tryin' to act like there's nuthin' wrong now, so just tell me what's'a matter an' I'll see if I can't help."

Joe met Hoss' gaze brazenly. "Nothing's the matter."

"C'mon, Joe, it ain't right fer two men to chase each other round with words. Jus' tell me now an' save us some time." When Joe stayed silent, Hoss added, "The more time we waste here's less time we'll have out there."

Joe bit his lip, glancing away. "Adam doesn't think I can track."

Hoss feigned surprise. "But o'course you can track!" he cried. "Remember that ol' fox y'found last winter?"

"I told him that, but he said I'm too little to go off alone."

"Little Joe," Hoss said, waiting for the boy to meet his gaze before continuing. "It ain't that yer too little. The only reason Adam don't want you goin' off alone is that he's scared."

"Scared?" Joe repeated doubtfully. "Adam doesn't get scared."

"It's true," Hoss insisted. "He's scared somethin' might happen to you when you did find the robbers. Adam's got a lot to think about now, an' the last thing he needs is his favorite brother goin' off and findin' the robbers 'fore he can."

"You're his favorite brother," Joe muttered dully. "You listen to him."

"Nah," Hoss smiled. "That don't mean nuthin'. You're his little brother-"

"So are you," Joe pointed out.

Hoss laughed, but when Joe kept his eyes downcast he sobered slightly. "Well, with brothers like us, I reckon we're all favorites. The point is, Adam's tryin' his best to be someone people'll look up to, like Pa. But he can't do that right when he's worryin' over his little brothers wand'rin' round with murderers on the loose."

"He lets you do it," the boy said sullenly.

"But he don't like to," Hoss went on. "He hates it ev'ry time I ride away from him. I don't think he _can_ let you go off alone, not when he knows he wouldn't be able to protect you. That's just the way Adam is."

Joe sat silently, pondering the words his brother gave him. They did make sense; Joe had already noticed how hard Adam seemed to be trying at everything he did lately, and it made him feel better to think that it was Adam's personality that prevented him from searching alone, not his age.

Still, that would mean that he would have to feel bad about messing with Adam from now on, and Joe wasn't sure he wanted that. "Then you're telling me to be good and listen to him?" he asked finally.

"I would never. I'm just sayin' why you can't go off alone," Hoss laughed. "Brothers are s'posed to bug each other. Just not me, right Little Joe?"

"Right."

"Good. Y'awna ride with me or Adam then?"

_You_, Joe wanted to say, but he held back. It would be more fun to ride with Hoss, but already he felt sorry for his plans to undermine Adam's authority. Maybe he should ride with him and make up for it. "I'll go with Adam."

Hoss hid a smile and turned back to his plate, shoveling the last few bites of egg into his mouth and brushing the napkin across his lips. "C'mon, then," he said, pushing his chair back and standing up. "Adam'll be 'bout ready with the horses now. Y'done, Joe?"

The youngest Cartwright copied his brother, adding a stretch to his movements before heading for the door. "You think we'll be back for lunch?"

"We'd better," Hoss rumbled, plopping his hat over his forehead so it shadowed his eyes when he yanked open the door. "Ain't nothing gonna stand between me'n my lunch."

Hoss was rewarded with Joe's giggles, and felt a huge smile tug into his face. He reached back toward the boy and laid one already large hand on his shoulders, readjusting his hat with the other. "Adam!" he called, steering Little Joe toward the barn. Their eldest brother stood beside his own horse, holding the reins of Hoss' steed and Joe's pony in his hand. His dark eyes looked guarded, Hoss noticed, but they softened slightly when they took in Joe's improved mood. An almost tentative smile touched his lips, and he held out the reins to Joe's pony as they approached.

"You all ready for the search?" he asked, offering a smile as Joe took the reins from him.

The boy nodded. "Can I ride with you?"

Adam only barely masked his surprise, flicking an amazed glance at Hoss, who was beaming over Joe's shoulder. "Of course you can, Buddy. Hoss can go with the Sheriff."

Joe nodded again and mounted his pony with the ease of a practiced adult, and Hoss felt his smile grow even wider. It was obvious the boy had a gift with horses, keeping them calm even was he was too young to ride them. _Just wait till he's Adam's age,_ Hoss found himself thinking proudly. _He'll be the best bronc-buster in Nevada._

"You ready, Hoss?" Joe asked, tying to mimic Adam's pose as the older Cartwright leaned on the pommel of his saddle.

"Yeah, Joe," Hoss answered as he pulled himself up into his own saddle. "I reckon I am."


	3. Chapter 3

"Let's review the facts," Adam suggested, glancing across the room to where the Sheriff leaned against his desk.

"We ain't got much," the lawman answered darkly, eyes darting across the map that lay before him. "Just that the robbers hit Carson City bank three days ago and cut southwest onto the Ponderosa. We ain't been able to find track of 'em since."

"Maybe they aren't on the Ponderosa," offered the deputy, a man Adam had recently been introduced to as Dan Tullis. "I mean, we been searchin' there two days and still ain't seen 'em. How could they be there?"

"The Ponderosa is huge," the Sheriff cut in, as if he were disappointed his deputy had made such an ignorant comment. "There are dozens of places we havn't searched yet."

Silence followed his words, while each of the gathered men tried to think of something no one else had yet. Hoss glanced at the map, keeping one eye on the paper and one on Little Joe. His brother was bored, but was trying his best to behave anyway. He squirmed at Adam's side, shifting his weight and darting glances across the room.

"Maybe," Hoss said suddenly. All eyes turned to him, and he fought to keep from looking away. At sixteen, Hoss knew he was at the age when he was allowed to sit in on adult conversations so long as he did not contribute to them. He wondered briefly if he would get in trouble for speaking out, and he swallowed, feeling uncomfortable under the weight of their expectant silence. Adam, however, nodded encouragingly, and Hoss resisted the urge to clear his throat before continuing. "Maybe Mr. Tullis is right."

"We haven't searched everywhere yet," the Sheriff repeated. "There are places we don't even know of that could be hiding the robbers right now."

"I know that," Hoss went on, trying not to feel discouraged by the interruption. "But if even Adam an' I don't know 'em, how could the robbers?"

The Sheriff was silent, and Hoss saw Adam nodding thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye. He continued hesitantly, "If I robbed a bank, I'd wanna make sure I had a safe place t'go afterward." He paused, waiting for someone to challenge his statement, but none did. "An' if I had a safe place in mind, I'd wanna make sure no one would find it." Again he paused, and again no one spoke. "So if the robbers were hidin' somewhere on the Ponderosa, it'd make sense that they'd been there before. An' since we ain't seen no strangers ridin' across our land…" Adam shook his head in confirmation when Hoss glanced at him for support. "Then maybe they ain't on our land."

"Their tracks lead to the Ponderosa," the Sheriff said.

"Maybe they backtracked," Adam offered. "It was dark when you went out searching; maybe you missed something."

Dan Tullis dipped his head thoughtfully. "'S possible… we was in a hurry."

"Then where did they go?" the Sheriff asked stiffly.

"I think we should recheck the area around Carson City, right at the edge of the Ponderosa," Adam suggested, glancing proudly at Hoss.

"We could split up," Tullis offered.

The Sheriff glared down at the map, irritation clear on his face. "Those thieves couldn'ta chose a better time to hit the bank, what with Ben gone and Doc Kensington ready to leave, and that accident at the mine… we ain't hardly got nobody to search."

"You have us," Adam pointed out fiercely. "We'll be enough."

Joe paused his fidgeting to glance up at his oldest brother, a faint smile on his face. The Sheriff met Adam's eyes, suddenly looking old and weary. "I hope so, Adam."

A brief silence followed his words, in which Joe resumed his squirming, before Hoss cleared his throat and asked, "Mr. Tullis, d'you mind if I ride with you?"

"Not at all, Hoss," the deputy smiled, crossing the room and grabbing his hat off of a hook by the door. "Little Joe, too?"

"Nah, he's ridin' with Adam this time."

Joe looked up when he heard his name, his face eager. "Don't worry, Mr. Tullis. We'll find the robbers."

Tullis' tanned face broke into a grin, and he reached down and ruffled the boy's curls with a calloused hand. "I've no doubt about that, lad. None whatsoever." He smiled over his head at Adam. "We'll check around Carson City, like y'said." With a nod back at the Sheriff, he left the cramped office and disappeared into the streets with Hoss behind him.

The Sheriff pushed himself up off of the desk and prodded the map. "I'll look here, along the eastern boarders of the Ponderosa. We may've missed something in the cliffs."

Adam nodded, transferring his hat from his hands to his head. "I'll take Joe southwest. I told Hoss we'd meet back at the ranch for lunch; you're welcome as well."

"Thank you, Adam." the Sheriff smiled, then waved his hand at the door. "You go on, I'll be out in a bit."

Adam dipped his head and tugged at Joe's shoulder, and the two of them made their exit.

"What're we gonna do when we catch 'em?" Joe exploded as soon as they got outside.

"We're gonna go for backup," Adam responded, glancing down at his brother.

Joe's face fell. "What if they get away while we're gone?"

"That's just a chance we'll have to take. The two of us can't arrest them ourselves."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" Adam repeated, amused. "Because we'll probably be outnumbered. These are murderers, Joe, thieves! We couldn't hold a candle to them."

Joe pouted, glancing away sullenly. "Hoss and I could take 'em."

Adam pressed his lips together, forcing back the retort that was clawing at his tongue. Hoss had already had to repair their relationship today; it would be best not to break the ice he was standing on. He watched Joe swing up onto his pony as he mounted his own and glanced up the road.

_Please_, he found himself praying. _Please don't let us find them._


	4. Chapter 4

"You bling too many people, not tell Hop Sing," Hop Sing grumbled, waving his ladle threateningly at Adam. "Not prepared for so many guests."

Adam shifted away from the irate cook, his eyes sweeping the room and touching each face gathered at the table. "Well how was I supposed to know that Hoss would meet up with Doc Kensington?"

Hop Sing glared, not accepting the excuse. "Now supper not be done on time, Hop Sing have to clean up this mess! Should make Mr. Adam help!"

"Come on, Hop Sing, I wasn't responsible for all of this."

"Mr. Adam in charge!" Hop Sing said, jabbing the ladle into Adam's chest. "Things not his fault must be his lesponsibility."

Adam was silent, staring into dark eyes that held wisdom he hadn't noticed before. Hop Sing paused to let the words sink in before whacking the eldest Cartwright once more over his heart and stomping back to the kitchen.

"He let you escape!" Hoss cried from the table. "Hurry up'n siddown before he comes back!"

Adam followed his brother's advice, taking a seat between Hoss and Doc Kensington. The doctor had been in Carson City a little over two years, but in that short time he and Adam had formed a close friendship, despite the fact that Kensington was almost as old as Ben. Adam loved the man like an uncle, and had been extremely saddened by the news that he was leaving town. Kensington had received word about a week before that his pregnant sister was having difficulties, and that his mother had moved in with them after his father succumbed to pneumonia. He had planned on setting out to Stephens Flats, where his sister and her husband lived, the day before, but had decided instead to stay in Carson City to help search for the robbers.

Hoss and Tullis had picked him up on their way out of town, and the three of them searched the land around Carson City without success. Adam's and Joe's search was equally fruitless, and the Sheriff had yet to return.

Kensington leaned back from the table, sighing contentedly. "I haven't eaten a finer meal in all of Nevada."

Hoss let out a deep chuckle, waving his fork at the kitchen. "Yeah, old Hop Sing sure does know his cookin'."

Adam glanced at the grandfather clock that guarded the wall across from him, frowning. "I told the Sheriff we were meeting for lunch… he should've been here by now."

"I'm sure he just lost track of time," Kensington said soothingly. "You said he was skirting the edge of the Ponderosa? That's a lot of land to cover; he probably got caught up in the search and forgot about lunch."

"I don't know," Hoss murmured doubtfully. "Any man who can forget lunch has sumthin' wrong with 'im."

"Just because _you_ never could," Joe teased, poking his fork at Hoss' ribs.

Adam started to stand. "I don't know… maybe we should-"

The stomping of hooves in the yard cut off the rest of Adam's sentence. A moment later the Sheriff burst into the room, out of breath and waving franticly behind him. "Get your horses, quick! I found 'em, over by the bluffs just west of here! You were right, Hoss; they doubled back and left the Ponderosa."

"How many?" Adam asked, already bolting for the door. Chairs scraped against the floor as the others followed.

"Six."

"We're outnumbered," Hoss noted.

"No we're not!" Joe cried. "Six of us and six of them!"

Adam froze in the doorway, causing Hoss to run into him and nearly knock them both off their feet. "Joe," he said, exasperated. "You have to stay here."

"You'll be outnumbered!" the boy pressed. "I can help!"

"Stay here," Adam repeated.

"Just let me-"

"Joseph Cartwright," Adam thundered. "You will stay here!"

The fire in Joe's eyes grew hard. "You ain't Pa!" he yelled. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"Pa left me in charge, and I say you can't go!"

"Well I'm not listening to you!"

"Adam," the Sheriff snapped. "We have to go!"

Adam's eyes tore between the door and his youngest brother. "You _stay here._ Take one step outside, and you'll be sorry for it." Glaring to emphasize the order, Adam turned, snatched up his rifle from beside the door, and hurried outside.

Joe ran after him, but Hoss caught him as he passed. "Not this time, Little Joe."

"It's not fair!" the boy wailed, furious tears springing to his eyes.

"I know it ain't, but that's the way it is," Hoss said. "Listen to him for now; you c'n yell at him when we get back." Hoss pushed Joe firmly back into the house, then spun around and set off after the others, who were already streaking away.

Little Joe stood motionlessly in the doorway, his eyes burning with the tears he refused to let fall. Why wouldn't they let him help? That was all he wanted, but Adam wouldn't let him do anything. If only he were bigger!

Letting out a frustrated yell, Joe kicked at the wall and glared after the dots that were his brothers and the other men. He counted them, shooting his anger at the one he imagined was Adam. One, two, three, four… His foot hovered over the door jamb, frozen as he processed the scene before him. One rider was missing. He counted again, but he still could only see the four. A stab of worry shot through him as he scanned the horizon for the missing rider. Would they be able to face the six robbers with only four men? Something flashed in the sunlight off to his left; one lone rider was speeding away from the others, toward Carson City.

After a split second of hesitation, Joe sprinted for the barn, climbed onto his pony, and rode off in pursuit of the solitary man.


	5. Chapter 5

Joe's eyes scanned the street, trying to decide if he could recognize the horse he'd been following. He'd been too far away to identify things like color or size, but he checked every horse he passed for signs that they'd been running hard. Unfortunately, almost every mount he saw showed some sign of fatigue.

With a frustrated groan, Joe steered his pony toward a saloon and dismounted, his mind switching to plans of attack. The thought had occurred to him that maybe the man he'd been chasing had merely gone back for help, and the best place to look for men who'd be willing to fight was a saloon. And if his quarry hadn't gone for help, then at least Joe could send some before he found the dirty skunk who'd abandoned his brothers.

After a short pause to gather his thoughts, Joe pushed through the swinging doors of the saloon and into the dark room beyond. The noise was not nearly as bad as he'd suspected, though it didn't occur to Joe to think that most of the men of Carson City would be out working in the middle of the day. It didn't matter though; there were four men milling about the bar, and Joe only needed two to make his brothers' posse even with the robbers'.

"Hey!" Joe called boldly, discarding the polite phrases that his father had taught him to use with adults. The men looked at him in surprise, and one opened his mouth, but Joe plowed on before he had a chance to speak. "My brothers need help, and you're not doing anything special anyway." He could almost feel his inner Adam wincing, but his inner Hoss argued that this wasn't a time to dance around with words.

"We ain't fer hire, kid," growled one of the men.

"It's not a job," Joe said quickly, feeling the words spill out before he really thought about what he was saying. "The sheriff found the robbers who hit the bank a few days ago, and there's six of them and my brothers and the sheriff and deputy went, and they're outnumbered, and unless someone helps they might not-"

"Where are they?" a man standing at the corner of the bar interrupted.

"West of the Ponderosa, in the bluffs."

"You're a Cartwright!" exclaimed one of the men, who had jumped up at the mention of the Ponderosa. "Sure, that little 'un… Jack 'er sumthun…"

"Joe," he corrected automatically.

"Right, that's it. I was a hand fer a while, 'fore one o' the cattles stepped on-"

One of the other men interrupted. "This ain't the time, Charlie. I say if the Cartwrights are in trouble, we can help. They've always been good for the town. Can you lead us?"

Charlie shrugged and looked down at Little Joe. "Sure, I had to chase strays in them bluffs once. Just west o' the ranch?"

"Yes," Joe answered excitedly. "Then you'll help?"

Charlie grinned at the boy. "Sure will, lad. You leave it to us." He waved back at the other men and lead the way past Joe and into the street, onto their horses, and off toward the Ponderosa.

Joe stared after them. _Please let them make it in time... _He glanced back at the bartender and gave a short wave before heading outside and returning to his initial quest. He had to find the man who'd left his brothers, and hoped that whoever it was had a good reason for doing it.

For the first time, Joe noticed that there was a horse standing outside of Doc Kensington's office. _It's a patient,_ he told himself. _ Doc's with Adam and Hoss. He wouldn't come back to town... _ But despite his weak arguments, Joe crept up to the window and crouched beneath it to listen.


	6. Chapter 6

The room was dim and quiet, and sparsely furnished. Twelve beds were shoved up against the walls, six on the left and six on the right, and an old desk stood between the rows at the far wall. Ten of those beds were occupied by broken men, the result of a collapsed mine a few days before. Only the farthest two beds on the left side were empty.

A boot scuffed against the porch, and the sound of two arguing men drifted into the dark room. The door burst open a moment later, and Doc Kensington rushed into the darkness, followed by his assistant, Paul Duriff.

"How could he have found them?" Kensington was hissing, tearing across the room and seizing a bag from where it lay near his desk.

"I was watchin' 'em from a ways away, like you told me," Duriff grunted. "Johnny fell asleep. He let the Sheriff walk right up to 'em."

"And none of them noticed."

"He was quiet."

"That's your excuse?" Kensington fought to keep his voice low, throwing things into his bag. "We could all be hanged, and your excuse is that he was _quiet?_"

"What're we gonna do?" Duriff hissed.

"Do," The doctor repeated slowly. "I told Adam I was riding to town for backup."

"But that'd leave only four of them against ours," Duriff said. "Why'd they let you go?"

"They didn't." Kensington said. "I just left. You told the men not to kill any of them, right?"

"Yeah, I told 'm, but it don't make sense to me," Duriff complained. "How we suppose to fight 'em off if we can't shoot?"

"I'm a doctor, Paul, it's my duty to preserve life."

"Then you picked the wrong job."

Kensington glared at him. "I'll tell Adam my sister sent news that she needs me immediately. He'll believe me."

"What about the others?"

"What about them?" Kensington huffed. "They can stay in jail for us. We never used our names around them, and always met them in the dark. It'll take them a while to finally figure out who we are, and we'll be half way to Texas by then."

"I thought we were goin' to Stephens Flats?"

"That was just a story, Paul. I don't have a sister." Kensington glanced across the faces of the men he had cared for, frowning. "Go get Mrs. McKerron, tell her we have to leave and ask if she'll care for the men."

Though he looked like he wanted to say argue, Duriff went to the door wordlessly and stepped out. He shut the door behind him before clomping off the porch and into the street. A flash of movement caught his eye, and he turned his head just in time to see a mop of curly hair disappear over the railing.

Duriff froze. _Cartwright, _his mind hissed, and before he knew it he was sprinting after the boy. Joe was quick, but his legs were far too short to outrun a grown man. In a matter of minutes Duriff had him cornered against the wall of a store.

"You won't get away with this!" Joe yelled, green eyes defiant and voice shaking with something between anger and fear. He wasn't stupid; he knew he couldn't stand up to the man before him and escape unscathed. But Joe Cartwright would never be one to back down from a fight- even one he knew he couldn't win.

Duriff lunged at the boy, latching a strong hand around his arm as he darted past. "Hold still!" he commanded, jerking Joe back almost off his feet.

Joe spit on his boots and clawed at his hand, opening his mouth to shout. "Don't-" Duriff growled, clamping his free palm over the boy's mouth. Flashes of memory leaped into Joe's mind; times when Adam or Hoss had done the same thing, though not nearly as roughly. His gut reaction was to lick the palm pressed over his lips, and after a few seconds of useless struggling he decided to try it. Duriff shifted his arm in disgust, and Joe took advantage of the extra room by biting down hard on the man's finger.

Duriff let out a muffled shout and eased his hold enough that Joe could wriggle free. He ducked under Duriff's flailing arms and kicked him hard in the shin before shooting off past him toward the street.

With a furious growl, Duriff spun toward the boy and clamped his fingers on a handful of hair. Joe cried out in surprise and tried to pull himself free, but Duriff yanked him back and slapped him across the face.

Joe froze, eyes wide. An angry red blotch stung on his cheek, and his eye watered where Duriff's hand had grazed it. Duriff raised his palm again, growling, "You make one more move, boy, and I'll use my fist next time."

Something that felt like fear rose up in Joe's chest, making it feel clogged and heavy. Something that could have been tears stung his eyes, and made his throat feel tight. And something else, far in the back of his mind, watched his reaction and felt ashamed by it.

Joe latched onto the feeling of shame desperately. Hoss or Adam wouldn't cry in a situation like this. They'd fight back, and keep fighting, whether they'd been hit or not. Those thoughts forced the tears from his eyes and the tightness from his chest, giving him room to suck in a huge breath of air and open his mouth to yell.

Duriff's hand struck faster than Joe had anticipated, sending him reeling against the wall where he felt something hard slam into his skull. He fell at Duriff's feet, blinking back the urge to cry, but feeling tears come anyway.

As darkness pressed at the corners of his vision, Joe watched Duriff bend down and pick him up, almost gently, and wondered if Adam would be mad at him for leaving the ranch.

"Stupid kid," Duriff murmured, struggling to find a comfortable way to hold the boy without having to cradle him. One arm drooped limply from his hold, the fingers half-curling against the fabric of Duriff's sleeve. The assistant pulled a disgruntled face before shifting the boy again and making his way carefully toward Kensington's office.

The doctor looked up as Duriff entered, his expression morphing from impassive to confused to furious. "That's not-" He crossed the room in seconds, hissing, "What did you do?"

"I didn't do nuthin'," Duriff growled, holding out the still form of Joe as far as he could without dropping him. "Where can I…?"

"Here- put him here," Kensington said, leading the way to the back of the room and yanking the blanket off of an empty bed. "What happened?"

Duriff laid his burden on the bed, stepping back to let Kensington by. "The kid was snooping. I caught him outside the office."

The doctor paled slightly. "Did he hear?"

"He ran. I had to stop him, didn't I?"

"How did _this_ happen?" Kensington asked, running his fingers carefully through Joe's hair to check for blood.

"I hit him."

"You what?"

"He was gonna shout! I had to stop him somehow, and when I hit him he hit the wall."

Kensington shook his head and stood, hands on hips. "At least you've managed not to kill him." He pulled one hand to his forehead, rubbing at a sudden headache. "But now we have to figure out what to do with him…"

"Do with him?" Duriff repeated incredulously. "We have to kill him, don't we? He'll tell!"

"We can't kill him, you idiot," Kensington hissed. "We do that, and Adam will have every lawman in Nevada after us. No, we'll have to take him with us."

"Won't Adam follow?" Duriff asked darkly.

"He won't; not yet." Kensington glanced down at the unconscious Joe. "He won't have reason to suspect us. We'll go to Stephens Flats like I told Adam we would, leave Little Joe there, and move on to Texas. Adam will be more interested in getting his little brother back safe than chasing after us. And once he has Joe back, we'll be too far away for him to do anything about it."

Duriff crossed his arms. "I don't like it, Doc. That kid's gonna get on my nerves."

"You'll just have to deal with it," Kensington said flatly. "Now go tell Mrs. McKarron about taking care of the men, and pick up some supplies. Let me know when Adam comes back to town. I'll tell him about my sister and that we have to leave immediately. Find Little Joe's pony, too, and put it in the stable so no one sees it. And make sure you tell me before Adam gets here; we don't want him to find Joe. Now go!"

Casting one last dissatisfied glare over his shoulder, Duriff obeyed.


	7. Chapter 7

Hoss urged his horse faster, trying to catch up to the men in front of him. Several minutes ago, Doc Kensington had turned his horse around and headed back the way they'd just come, angling east. The only reason Hoss could come up with to explain the doctor's leaving was that he was going back for help, but it still didn't make much sense to him. Five was better than four (three technically, since Hoss knew Adam wouldn't let him ride with the sheriff and deputy when they found the robbers).

"Adam!" he called, pulling his horse up close enough to be heard. Adam turned his head back slightly, so that his left ear was aimed at his brother. "Where's the doc goin'?"

"Help," Adam shouted back, and the wind tore any feeling Hoss might have read in the words out of his voice. He contented himself to ride on in silence, but his thoughts remained troubled.

What seemed like hours later, Hoss slowed his horse to a stop beside Adam's and the Sheriff's. Tullis had dismounted and was kneeling at the foot of a large, rocky outcrop that jutted up from the face of the earth and towered above the surrounding pines. "Horse tracks here," Tullis reported, lifting himself off his knees.

"Six of them?" Adam asked.

"Could be," the deputy answered, wiping off his hands on his pants. "Can't be sure, but there's at least four."

The Sheriff cursed in a low voice. "They must have noticed me and left."

Tullis allowed a wry smile to cross his face. "Don't worry, they left a trail a blind man could follow."

Adam leaned forward in his saddle, trying to see past the deputy. "Which way?"

"Northeast."

Hoss raised his eyebrows. "That's back toward Carson City."

"C'mon then," the Sheriff said, tugging on his reins. "That's only making our job easier; we'll have less road to travel once we capture them." He waited until Tullis climbed into his saddle before setting off at a brisk canter in the direction of the tracks.

"Hoss," Adam said in a low voice, and Hoss dropped back from where he'd been at Tullis' right to ride beside his brother.

Hoss studied Adam's face for a moment before nodding. "Don't worry, Adam, I'll stay back when we find them robbers."

Adam's eyes softened, and his worried expression relaxed to a grateful one. "Thanks, Hoss."

Hoss held up his hand, tilting his head and frowning. "I don't like it," he said matter-of-factly. "But I know you won't concentrate proper if you're worryin' 'bout me. But I ain't gotta jus' sit'n do nuthin', do I? I can cover you from a distance."

"You can," Adam consented. "You can even use my rifle."

"Don't you need it?"

"I have my pistol. It'll be alright."

"If you're sure..."

Adam sighed. "Thank you, Hoss."

"Fer what?"

"Understanding, listening, not arguing, offering calm suggestions, not yelling at me, not-"

"Y'mean not bein' Little Joe," Hoss interrupted.

"Well… yeah."

Hoss' brow furrowed thoughtfully. "He don't try to be that way," he said slowly. "It's hard fer him, growin' up with two big brothers who get to ride around whenever they want when he can't."

Adam cast him a slightly surprised look. "He said this?"

"Well, I reckon he didn't really have to."

"My brother the psychiatrist," Adam smiled fondly.

"The what?"

"Psychiatrist. That's someone who studies the effects of someone's mind on their actions."

Hoss smiled slightly. "Naw, I ain't no doctor, I just sorta know what Little Joe's goin' through. Him bein' the littlest an' surrounded with big'uns who always tell him he can't do nuthin' to help… That's really all he wants. To help."

Adam looked away guiltilly. "Well, there's not much we can do about that. He's just going to have to realize that there are some things he can't do yet."

"I know, but… well, we just gotta be patient with him, is all."

"Patient," Adam repeated. "I wish I had your patience, Hoss."

His younger brother shrugged, and they rode on in silence, Hoss' thoughts on the robbers and Adam's on Little Joe. _Hoss is right,_ Adam admitted to himself. _Little Joe does have a lot to live up to, being a Cartwright, and then being as small as he is… no wonder he's always trying to prove himself. I'll have a talk with him when we get back. _Hoss was much better at that kind of thing, but it wouldn't fix things between the youngest and eldest brothers if the middle one had to settle all of their conflicts. No, Adam would just have to do it on his own.

"Adam," the Sheriff hissed, and he looked up in surprise. Tullis had stopped about twenty feet ahead of them, and twisted around in his saddle to hold a finger to his lips. Adam nodded, silently agreeing not to talk, and Tullis pointed to a small copse of pines. A cloud of dust was just beginning to settle around it.

Adam glanced sharply at Hoss, who was already looking at him. He carefully handed over his rifle and a box of ammunition, and pointed to a clump of bushes and rocks that would give Hoss enough cover to shoot safely from. Hoss nodded, his blue eyes looking far too serious for a sixteen-year-old. Adam mimicked the motion and looked back to the Sheriff. "Ready?" he mouthed.

The Sheriff nodded and looked at Hoss, then motioned him off. Hoss dismounted and lead his horse slowly over to the rocks Adam had pointed out, dropped the reins into a bush, and crouched down behind his cover. Once he had loaded the gun and propped the barrel up on the rock, he waved back at Adam and crouched, ready.

Adam looked to the Sheriff, who snapped his fingers at Tullis and pointed off to the right of where the red dust was becoming less visible. The deputy saluted and set off at a slow canter, face trained on his point of destination. Adam pointed left, and the Sheriff nodded solemnly.

_This is it._ With one last glance at the Sheriff, Adam led his horse toward the left of their quarry, so that he was a little past where Tullis was positioned. The Sheriff nodded encouragingly at him, and waved at Tullis to go further, so they could surround the wood.

Tullis looked at the Sheriff, the Sheriff looked at Adam, and Adam looked at Hoss. Hoss glanced his way quickly before turning his attention back to the pines, nodding. He was ready.

"Throw out your guns and surrender!" the Sheriff yelled in an impressive voice. The sudden noise made Adam start, even though he'd been expecting it. "You're surrounded!"

His announcement was met with gunfire, three shots over their heads. "We c'n see ya, Sheriff!" a man shouted. "Yer outnumbered!"

Adam glanced at Tullis, who had pointed his rifle into the trees. "Outnumbered or no, one of our shots are bound to hit what we aim at," the deputy called. "If you come out now, we'll guarantee you all a fair trial."

"A fair trial won't help us none," a different man snarled.

The Sheriff glared into the wood, but when he answered his voice was calm. "It's better than being shot here in the middle of nowhere. Throw out your guns."

Another shot shattered the air, and Adam fought against the urge to dismount, find cover, and shoot back. So far the shots had only been warnings, but eventually a bullet would stray too low, and Adam didn't want to test how long that would take. He gripped his pistol tightly, willing himself to stay steady.

"This is your last chance," he called, making his voice louder and more authorative than normal. Hoss called it his Pa Voice, and though it couldn't hold a candle to Ben Cartwright's commanding tone, it usually sounded close enough to make people pause and listen.

Nothing. Adam waited, resisting the urge to glance at the Sheriff, his finger hovering just off the trigger of his gun. If this didn't work…

Tullis cleared his throat and tossed his head toward the woods, and the Sheriff dipped his head in acknowledgement. Adam glanced back and met Hoss' eyes, nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring way, and faced the clump of trees again.

A gunshot split the silence, digging into the ground not a foot from Adam and throwing up a cloud of dust. His horse reared and screamed, and Adam felt his pistol fly from his grasp as he fought for balance. The frightened mount stomped its forelegs into the dirt and reared again. Another shot buried itself at the horse's hooves, and Adam dug his knees into the saddle as his steed shied away from the spot. It twisted beneath him as the horse jerked aside, and he felt himself leaning too far to compensate for the sudden movement.

He fell heavily, breath whooshing out upon impact with the hard ground. Feeling as if his chest was on fire, he rolled out of the path of his panicked horse and gasped in a mouthful of dusty air. The sound of more gunshots sounded dull to his ears, distant and low. Someone was shouting something, but Adam was concentrating too hard on trying to make his lungs work again to understand what whoever-it-was was saying.

When he was finally able to look up he saw that his horse had bolted, leaving a cloud of dust like a banner behind it. The Sheriff and Tullis had taken shelter behind some boulders and were shooting into the trees. Hoss was calling his name and pausing every other breath to fire into the woods.

Adam coughed, raising himself to his knees and crawling forward to where his gun had landed. He needed cover. The closest thing to him was a clump of dry shrubbery scattered around a rock that would reach his waist if he stood up.

Wincing against the protests of his ribs, Adam crawled over to his selected haven and crouched behind it. Shots were still ringing out near him, but most of them were focused on Tullis, the Sheriff, and Hoss. Adam propped his pistol up on the rock and fired without aiming into the trees. _This won't get us anywhere,_ he thought bitterly. The only thing it would accomplish would be to waste bullets and give him a headache.

Suddenly, the bullets aimed at them stopped. Tullis and the Sheriff glanced at each other, and Hoss, who had been reloading, peeked above the rock he was crouched behind in confusion. After a few moments of nervous silence, a voice sounded from the copse of pines.

"Cartwright?"

Adam stared at the trees in surprise before throwing an astonished look at the Sheriff. "Yeah," he yelled back.

"Any of you hurt?"

Again, Adam looked to the Sheriff, who shook his head and shrugged. "No."

"Don't worry none, Mr. Cartwright," a different man shouted. "We came from Carson City to help. We've got these fellas here all ready to come back to town with us."

Tullis glanced at the Sheriff, a grin on his face. "Reinforcements!" he laughed. The deputy shouldered his rifle and stepped out from his cover, followed by the Sheriff.

Hoss dropped his rifle and rushed over to his brother, throwing an apologetic glance at the place his horse had disappeared over the horizon. "You ok?" he asked, kneeling by Adam, who remained where he was.

"I'm fine," Adam sighed, leaning back and sitting more comfortably on his heels. The burning in his chest was already subsiding to a dull ache, but he still felt sore. Hoss raised a skeptical eyebrow and grabbed his brother's elbow, helping him gently to his feet. "Thanks," Adam said, fighting a grimace. His eyes skipped to the Sheriff, who was making his way over toward them, smiling broadly.

"Looks like Doc Kensington did send help," Hoss said, his eyes on the woods.

"You alright?" the Sheriff asked as he approached. When Adam nodded, he went on, "The sooner we get those ruffians into jail, the sooner you can get back to the ranch and explain things to Little Joe."

Adam winced. "I think I'd rather fight the robbers again."

The Sheriff laughed and clapped Adam on the back (which made him wince again), and walked off toward the trees. Adam nodded to Hoss and followed the Sheriff, careful to walk slowly so he wouldn't have to limp. Hoss hovered at his elbow, casting anxious glances at him every few steps.

"You gonna leave my gun behind that rock?" Adam asked, smiling so Hoss wouldn't take it as an accusation.

"No, I was just…" Hoss glanced at the place he'd taken shelter, then back at Adam.

"I can make it to the woods alright," he insisted. "Go get your horse."

The look of concern was still plastered to his face, but Hoss shrugged and obeyed without an argument, for which Adam was grateful. It gave him time to compose himself before ducking under a low branch and stepping into the shade of the woods, taking in the scene before him wordlessly. The six robbers stood stiffly with their hands folded atop their heads, guns at their feet. Three other men were pointing rifles at the backs of the thieves, while a fourth stood a few yards away, holding the reins of the outlaws' horses. Tullis, who had beat him to the trees, had added his gun to the ones pointed at their quarry, while the Sheriff was making his way over to the man with the horses.

"Howdy, Mr. Cartwright," said one of the men, tipping his hat with one hand and grinning like he'd just done something incredibly important. Which, Adam thought to himself, he had.

"Nice timing," Adam noted, leaning casually against a tree. He folded his arms, making himself look relaxed as he mentally surveyed the damage he'd taken. As far as he could tell, he'd been lucky enough to only suffer bruises.

The sound of hoof beats portended Hoss' arrival, and he broke through the dense cover of pines and dismounted. He stepped over to his older brother and held out Adam's hat, which he hadn't realized he'd lost. He accepted it back with a nod and returned his attention to their rescuers.

"How did you…?" he asked slowly.

The man who'd greeted him smirked. "Weren't too hard. We just rode up behind these fellers while you were all shootin' away and distracting them."

"And forced them to surrender," Tullis finished lightly.

The man grinned wider and laughed. Hoss squinted at him, his mouth opened slightly and his eyebrows drawn together. "Don't I know you, mister?"

Adam frowned a moment before the image clicked. "Charlie!"

Charlie punched the man next to him lightly on the arm, laughing. "There now, I told you that they'd remember me!"

The man grinned back at him. "You musta made some impression on 'em then, but that don't mean it was a good one."

Adam felt a smile tugging at his lips. They'd done it. Kensington had sent them reinforcements, allowing them to capture the robbers without any casualties. Now all they had to do was return the money they'd stolen, and all would be right again.

Tullis' train of thought had apparently been parallel to Adam's. "Where's the money?" he growled, shoving the barrel of his gun intimidatingly into a robber's face.

"I ain't got it," the man sputtered, wide eyes darting to his comrades. "We ain't got it with us."

"Then where is it?" Adam asked firmly.

"The man in gray," the thief said quickly. "He took it."

Tullis glanced at the Sheriff, who scowled. "Who?"

"The man in gray," the man repeated.

"Yes, but _who_ is the man in gray?" Adam pressed.

The captured men exchanged glances for a moment before Tullis brought their attention back to the guns pointed at them by cocking the hammer of his own. "We don't know who he is," one of the robbers rushed. "He wore a gray waistcoat whenever he met with us."

The Sheriff glared at the men, who drew back from his gaze nervously. "If you tell us all you know about this man in gray, it'll alleviate your punishment."

"It ain't much." one of the men said. "He only met us at night to tell us the plans. Never got much of a look at him."

"'Sept he always wore a gray coat, every time," another man offered.

"An' that other feller was always followin' him," said a different one. "Never paid much attention to him. He sorta hung in the back, like he was checkin' fer people followin' us."

"Where are these men now?" Adam asked.

"Dunno," the first man said, eyeing Tullis' gun warily. "They was suppose to meet us t'morrow."

Scowling, the Sheriff gestured toward the captive men's mounts. "Climb up, boys. Tullis, you lead 'em with three of these gentlemen," he nodded to their rescuers, "and the rest of us will follow behind. With our guns."


	8. Chapter 8

They made a quick pit stop at the house to get Adam a horse. The Sheriff, Tullis, Hoss, Charlie, and his friends (who had introduced themselves as Andy Harris, Matthew Carroll, and Jim Wilson) guarded their captives while Adam hurried to the barn. He half-expected to find Joe there, sulking in the hay with a book, but the barn was devoid of anything but horses.

Since Adam's runaway horse hadn't returned yet, he saddled a bay named Chaucer and led him out into the yard. He threw a glance at the house, waiting for Joe to run out and demand to come along. But everything was still and silent, as if the ranch was holding its breath. Chaucer flicked his ears impatiently and tossed his head, and Adam tore his gaze from the front door and climbed into the saddle.

"Ready?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes." Adam nudged Chaucer into line behind Hoss, resisting the urge to look back at the house again.

"Should we bring Joe with?" Hoss asked, speaking the words that had just run through Adam's mind. "I could get him. We'd catch up."

Adam shook his head. "No… if he wanted to come, he'd have been out here. Let's give him time to sulk."

"Maybe he didn't hear us come in," Hoss suggested.

"Not hear a dozen horses ride in?" Adam smiled. "He can't listen, but he's not deaf."

"If he's helpin' Hop Sing again…"

"Hoss." Adam waited until his brother swiveled in his saddle so he could look at him. "I know you mean good. I don't want to leave Joe behind either. But we've got to let him be for a while, or he won't listen when I explain things later."

Hoss sighed and nodded. "I know. But leavin' Joe alone when he's mad ain't a smart thing to do."

"He's not alone," Adam reminded him. "Hop Sing is there."

If Hoss noticed the thin note of uncertainty in his voice, he didn't mention it. Adam knew Hop Sing couldn't be expected to watch Joe all day, not when he had other work to do. His only hope that his youngest brother would stay out of trouble was that their cook had managed to ensnare him in chores. And there were only so many chores he could do.

Adam's thoughts morphed from worrying about Joe to making a checklist of work that needed to be finished yet today, to a business transaction he'd been looking at, to wondering when Pa would get home, and then back to Joe in and endless cycle of exhausting questions without answers. He rubbed at his temples, letting Chaucer pick his own way across the well-traveled road. He chatted a bit with Matthew Carroll and ended up hiring him as a hand for an upcoming cattle drive, but for the most part he kept to himself and his dizzying thoughts.

It seemed to take much longer than he ever remembered to get to Carson City, but when they did finally catch sight of the town, Adam felt himself relax. They'd done it. Now he could get back to ranch work, which required no guessing, no worrying, and no headaches.

But there was one thing he needed to do yet. "Hoss!" he called. His brother turned. "You go along with the Sheriff," Adam said, nudging Chaucer up beside Hoss' horse. "I'm going to check on Doc Kensington."

"Alright," Hoss nodded.

"Wait for me at the sheriff's office."

Hoss nodded again, and Adam kicked Chaucer into a gallop aimed for the front of their procession. The Sheriff turned when he heard Adam coming. "What is it?"

"I'd like to go speak with Kensington," Adam said. "Hoss will go with you to the jail."

"That's fine," the Sheriff smiled. "I think we can manage without you."

"Thanks." Adam dipped his head and took his leave, nudging Chaucer into an even trot that took them to Kensington's office in minutes.

Adam dismounted and patted Chaucer's neck, murmuring praise into the horse's mane. Chaucer was fairly new to being ridden for long distances, but Adam had had his eye on the bay for a while now. He was a good horse.

With one more pat on the thick, muscled neck, Adam wrapped the reins loosely around the hitching post and marched up the steps to his friend's office.

"Hullo, Adam," said a cheerful voice behind him. Adam turned in surprise and recognized Kensington's assistant… what was his name…?

"Hi…Paul," he answered when he remembered, returning the other's smile. "Is Kensington in?"

"Well, he's in, but I don't suppose he'll be seein' nobody soon, if that's what y'mean," Paul said with a disarming smile. "He's sorta got his hands full with the mine accident and all."

Adam nodded sympathetically. "I suppose he has. But I need to see him." He took a step toward the door, but Paul bounded up the stairs and intercepted him.

"I'll go in and check on him. You wait right here." He pulled at the rim of his hat in either a courteous tip or an attempt at blocking the sun before disappearing into the office.

Adam stared at the door, frowning. Paul Duriff… Adam didn't know the man by more than reputation, and even that was stretching his knowledge of him. He'd heard the name tossed back and forth in one of the saloons, but hadn't taken much notice of it. Not even Kensington talked about him much. In fact, now that he thought about it, Adam was sure that the doctor hadn't had an assistant a month ago…

_Stop that,_ Adam told himself irritably. A man shouldn't be suspicious toward a friend, especially over such an insignificant thing. So what if he hadn't heard much about Paul Duriff? There were plenty of men in Carson City he didn't know. It was this whole business with Joe that had gotten him into such a thoughtful mood. He was just looking for things to be wrong now, to distract him from his trouble with his little brother. That made much more sense.

Trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, Adam folded his arms and started to whistle. He hadn't whistled in a while, not since Joe asked him to about a week and a half ago… Adam sighed. If only Joe wouldn't be so difficult. But he was young yet, Adam told himself. He'd grow out if it.

The door opened slowly, and Paul stepped out and smiled. "Lucky for you, the Doc just finished up with one of the patients and said he'd see you."

"Thanks," Adam said, nodding. Paul stepped back, holding the door open with one hand while Adam passed through.

Every curtain had been drawn over the windows, blocking out the sun and leaving opaque shadows on the floor. Six beds were pushed against either wall, reduced to ominous shapes in the darkness. Kensington stood over the nearest bed, shaking his head.

"This man's fever isn't going down," he whispered.

Adam waited until Kensington had stepped away from the bed to speak. "We found them."

Kensington looked up sharply. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No," Adam said. "Thanks to the men you sent."

"Yes, well…" Kensington smiled, his teeth flashing in the darkness. "I couldn't let you go on outnumbered."

Adam nodded. "They say there are two other men."

"Who do?"

"The robbers. They say a man in a gray waistcoat organized the whole thing, and another tagged along behind him."

"Could they describe this… man in gray?" Kensington asked.

"No. They said he only met them in the dark." Adam frowned, looking at the drawn curtains.

Kensington noticed. "The men get headaches from the light."

"Of course," Adam said. "Anyway, I… just wanted to thank you for sending those men." He turned back toward the doorway, dipping his head to Paul as he went.

"Wait, Adam," Kensington stepped closer to him, looking troubled. "My sister sent word to me today… that's why I didn't return with the men I sent. She needs me as soon as possible."

"Oh…" Adam blurted, startled. "I'm sorry."

"I'm leaving tonight. Right after we're done here, actually."

Adam stared through the darkness at his friend. "But what about the miners?"

"Mrs. McKerron is going to care for them until the new doctor comes to town." Kensington said. "I've already sent him a wire explaining everything."

Adam nodded distractedly. "I wish you could have left under better circumstances."

Kensington smiled, the skin around his mouth wrinkling in the shadows and making him look tired. "So do I, Adam."

Silence enveloped the room, wrapping around and weighing down on them like a stiff, hot blanket. Adam looked at the drawn curtains again and wished they were lighter, so that some sunshine would break through. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well… Joe's still at the house, and I haven't explained to him yet..."

Kensington smiled and held out his palm. "I understand, Adam. I'll send you a wire when I get to Stephens Flats."

Adam shook his outstretched hand, gripping it firmly and smiling when Kensington winced playfully. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Adam."

Adam stepped back and turned, taking swift, purposeful strides toward the door. His stomach rolled, and he could feel sweat beading on his brow beneath the rim of his hat. The distant pounding of a headache was creeping into his temples. _Pull yourself together._ he told himself irritably. _You've said goodbye to friends before. This is nothing to get upset about._

But he did feel upset. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him something was not right. Adam grabbed the door handle, trying to shake the unease aside before he stepped out into the street.

"Adam."

He froze. Had he really heard that? The voice had been so soft… Adam glanced over his shoulder at Kensington. "Yes?"

"No, that wasn't…" Kensington jerked his head at Paul. "I think one of the men is waking up. Will you go check on him?"

"Adam!"

The voice was still no more than a whisper, but it sent shivers down Adam's spine. Kensington stepped up beside him and opened the door, making Adam blink against the sudden light. "One man's friend was killed in the collapse. His name was Adam. I'm afraid he hasn't quite gotten over the shock."

Adam nodded mutely, wondering why his mouth felt so dry. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, no, Paul can handle it." Kensington set his hand on Adam's shoulder and smiled gently. "Besides, you need to get back to Little Joe."

"Yeah…" Adam returned the smile, still feeling inexplicably unsettled. "Goodbye."

Kensington stood in the doorway until Adam climbed into his saddle before wheeling around and slamming the door.


	9. Chapter 9

Joe could vaguely distinguish voices from the rushing sound in his ears, but they sounded too distant to make out any words. They were deep, adult voices, voices he was suppose to listen to and obey. But it wasn't Pa or Adam. Then again, it wouldn't be Pa, would it? He was in Sacramento. Maybe it was the Sheriff and Mr. Tullis.

No, that wasn't right either. One of the voices kept rising in anger. Joe felt himself sliding from his dreams, and the further he got from sleep, the more his head started to hurt. He pinched his eyes shut, then made himself relax.

In every book Adam had ever read to him, the main character never remembered what happened. If he was bushwhacked or ambushed or captured, he never knew where he was or why he was there when he woke up. But Joe knew exactly where he was. He remembered everything.

Joe made himself lay still, even though his head felt as if it were being ripped in half. Though he didn't remember arriving there, he figured he must be at Doc Kensington's place. He was lying on his stomach, and the sheets beneath him smelled sour-sweet, as if sickness had passed from the patient to last use that bed into it. He could recognize the voices now, too, though he still couldn't quite make himself focus on them.

"He's here," Duriff was saying. He sounded nervous.

"Did they find them?" Kensington asked, his voice hushed. Joe wrinkled his nose against sheets and tried not to cough.

"Yeah. And some other men showed up to help," Duriff growled.

Joe smiled. The men he'd sent had made it in time.

"Who…?" Kensington whispered.

"I don't know," A low _thunk_ followed his words, probably from Duriff slamming his fist against Kensington's desk, Joe thought. "But I'd bet my right hand that Cartwright brat had something to do with it."

A long pause sank into the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps as Kensington paced. "He'll think I sent them."

"Well don't tell him otherwise."

"I know that." Another pause. "Bring him in. Paul, wait—Draw the curtains. Make it totally dark. We don't want to risk him seeing Joe."

Joe frowned into the sheet. Who couldn't see him? His head throbbed again, and he felt blackness reaching into the corners of his vision. He should stay awake, make sure whoever wasn't suppose to see him knew he was there… He had to tell someone about Kensington and his plans… He should get up…

He was only vaguely aware of someone stomping over to him and yanking a blanket up over his head so he was completely covered. More voices danced at the edge of his hearing, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on them. He was slipping again, falling in slow-motion into the darkness.

Joe started awake, wincing as his head pounded in protest. He could hear voices again, soft ones. Kensington was talking. How much time had passed? Was whoever-it-was still there?

"I understand, Adam. I'll send you a wire when I get to Stephens Flats."

_Adam._

Adam was there. He was safe! Adam would save him, would take him home and make the pounding in his head stop. He would take Kensington and Duriff away to jail, with the rest of the robbers, where they belonged.

Joe opened his eyes, but his face was turned away from the doorway. He started to roll over, but the sound of footsteps made him stop. _This is it._ Joe thought. _Adam's coming to get me now._

"Goodbye," Adam said.

"Goodbye, Adam."

_No!_ Joe screamed, but nothing came out. His mouth felt like cotton, his lips dry and cracked. Adam was leaving. He was leaving without him.

"Adam," he croaked, struggling to lift himself up. His arms were shaking. Why was that?

There was a long pause before Adam answered. "Yes?" He sounded uncertain.

"No, that wasn't…" Kensington's voice was rushed. "I think one of the men is waking up. Will you go check on him?"

Heavy footsteps clunked across the floor. Joe tossed his head toward the door and struggled to his elbows. "Adam!" he rasped desperately. _Just look!_ he begged. _Just look at me before Duriff gets here!_

Duriff bent over Joe, blocking his sight of the door. He murmured soothing words one might tell a sick man, but his face was hard and unforgiving. Joe pulled back against the bed, trying to peer around him and keep Adam in his vision. Duriff glared down at him and silently drew a gleaming knife.

Joe froze, eyes locked on the blade. Duriff pressed it almost gently against the boy's neck, angling it so the sharpest part of the knife pinched his skin. Joe tilted his head back, knowing he couldn't escape the cool metal but trying anyway.

"_Shut up," _Duriff hissed, the words scraping over Joe's ears like the itchy fallen leaves that pricked his skin in October.

Joe nodded. The movement made the knife shift against his neck, but it didn't draw blood. Duriff kept it there a moment longer before withdrawing.

The voices had stopped. Joe stared through the darkness, his heart thudding wildly. Adam had turned away, and Joe looked just in time to see his dark silhouette being swallowed by the light as the door swung shut behind him.

Kensington sighed and leaned back against the wall, as if his conversation with Adam had exhausted him. Duriff cursed and sat at the edge of the unoccupied bed beside Joe.

"If you'd just've let me get rid of that darn kid," he growled mutinously.

Kensington pushed himself away from the wall and stalked over to Joe. "You're lucky, boy," he frowned, glancing back at Duriff. "If you'd have given us away, Paul here would have had to dispose of both you and Adam."

Joe felt his eyes grow wide and fought to control his reaction. He sat up defiantly. "He couldn't have. Adam would've beat him."

"Snot-nosed little-" Duriff hissed, but Kensington interrupted.

"Maybe. But he wouldn't have beaten the two of us."

"Two against two," Joe pointed out brazenly.

Duriff scoffed. "Barely one and a half."

Joe shot to his feet. "You just-" Blinding light flashed behind his eyes, and dark spots danced across his vision. He leaned unsteadily to one side before dropping himself onto the bed. His vision cleared slowly, the black clouds that hovered over his eyes fading from gray to a pale, filmy white. Kensington had dropped to his knees before him with his palm up against Joe's forehead to hold back the thick curls, peering into his eyes. Joe pulled back, frowning.

"Don't move so fast," Kensington ordered monotonously, climbing to his feet.

Joe just barely resisted the urge to stick out his tongue and jump up again, deciding against it only because of the smug look that had just flashed over Duriff's face. Kensington glided across the floor, picking up bags and tossing them to his assistant. "Come on. We need to get out of here. Bring him."

Duriff glared at Joe and stood, shifting the bag to his left hand and grabbing Joe's elbow with his right. He yanked him to his feet and held him there as the black dots raced before his eyes again. They faded quicker this time, and as soon as they did Joe jerked his arm free of the man's grasp and glared up at him.

"Let's go," Kensington insisted impatiently. "Joe, you come with me. We're going to walk to the stable, get our horses, and ride out together side by side. Paul will be right behind us, so if you make one wrong move…" He let the threat hang unspoken and stared through the darkness to make sure it had left an impression on the young Cartwright.

It hadn't.

"What? He'll hit me again?" Joe backed away from Duriff, just in case he did follow through with the threat. "All I have to do is shout, and the whole town will come and stop you."

"You think you're that important, brat?" Duriff snarled. "You think everyone will stop what they're doing for you?"

Joe narrowed his eyes at the man and sucked in a deep breath.

"Little Joe, you misunderstood me."

Joe's breath whooshed out in surprise at Kensington's quiet statement. "Misunderstood?"

"Of course." The doctor stood over his desk, rearranging the objects there as if he hadn't a worry in the world. "You assumed I was threatening _you._"

For a moment, Joe still didn't understand. Then cold comprehension struck him, making him feel more unbalanced than when he'd first stood up. He saw Duriff grin out of the corner of his eye, and felt harsh fury rise up in his chest. He'd never been this mad before, not even when Hoss had told on him for riding Pa's horse. The rage paralyzed him and then burned itself out in an instant, leaving only hollow fear in its place.

"You wouldn't…" was all he could manage to whisper.

"I wouldn't," Kensington agreed. "As long as you do what you're told and don't disrupt my plans, I wouldn't. But if you take one step out of line," he glanced meaningfully at Duriff. "I'm sure Paul wouldn't mind taking a detour to meet one of your brothers as they ride back home."

Joe stood stiffly, wishing the floor would burst open and swallow them all. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. He'd envisioned himself finding the robbers countless times, but it never occurred like this. He would be surrounded by the bad guys, they would fight, but he would win, always. He might get a little hurt, but the wounds of his foes would far outweigh his own. And he would always be able to go back home and bask in his family's warm gratitude, knowing that he had done the right thing.

Now, Joe felt the stinging behind his eyes that meant he was about to cry. His chest felt tight and his throat thick with threatened sobs. He'd gotten himself into trouble, again, only now there was no one to get him out.

"I'll do it," he said, his voice low and harsh. "Whatever you want, I'll do it."


	10. Chapter 10

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"Adam?"

"Hmm?" Adam turned and fixed Hoss with a distracted glance.

"I asked if you knew what Hop Sing's makin' fer supper tonight." Hoss repeated, frowning.

"Sorry, Hoss. No, I don't know." Adam dipped his head to blot out the sun with the brim of his hat and peered out across the land. He'd zoned out again, going over the conversation he'd have with Joe as soon as they returned home. Hoss heaved an exaggerated sigh and fell into a comfortable silence, letting Adam's thoughts revert back to his imaginary discussion with his youngest brother.

Only now he couldn't concentrate. His contemplations slipped from the tight net he'd tried to corral them into, bursting out into the afternoon sun and wandering unchecked off over the horizon. He disliked the afternoon for that reason. The morning always flew past and was gone before he had a chance to notice it, but the afternoon stretched on forever. In the lazy hours after lunch, on his days off or when he had little to do besides sit outside and stare at the clouds, the afternoons never ended. It was then that his mind wandered, having nothing else to occupy itself with, and scattered out to wrap itself about ideas that he would otherwise have no time to worry about. It was in the afternoons, when he had hours to waste before he would have to reel his mind in again and set it on important affairs, that he realized just how confusing life was. There was nothing to do in the afternoon but think, and if he did it too often, he came away feeling depressed and withdrawn. If life was more like a morning, quick and sweet and time-consuming, Adam had a feeling that he would have less headaches.

Joe was like a morning, he found himself thinking. Bright and full of promise, standing fearlessly before the oncoming day, daring it to come at him. Hoss was like the evening, calmly waiting for the world to slow down and notice it. It seemed like such a small space between afternoon and night, but it was there, content to just observe, like Hoss was.

Adam shook his head and allowed a quick smile to tug at his lips. He often felt poetic in the afternoon, when all he had to do was think. Many a poem had come as a result of his thoughtful moods in the endless hours between lunch and supper, though he'd never compared his brothers to times of day before. He'd have to remember to write that down when he got home.

When he got home. They'd be there soon, he noted, looking up at the sky. It was just beginning to fade from careless light blue to gray, tinted with the pale pink of sunset. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten, or how sore he suddenly felt at having been in the saddle most of the day. He stretched, wincing as his ribs reminded him of the fall he'd taken.

"You alright?" Hoss asked, noticing his movement.

"Sure, I'm fine," Adam smiled. "Just a bit sore."

"Me, too," Hoss rumbled. He copied his brother's actions, leaning back in the saddle and twisting to crack his back. "'N I'm hungry, too."

Adam laughed. "I'm sure Hop Sing will have something good whipped up for us when we get back."

"I hope so." Hoss sighed and pushed the brim of his hat back so he could see more of the sky. "It's gettin' late."

Adam blinked into the sun and smiled as he caught sight of the little dark blob that was the ranch house. He threw a quick glance at Hoss and grinned. "Race you home," he said impulsively.

Hoss looked at him in surprise. "Y'sure yer up to it?"

A slight twinge in his ribs told him he wasn't, but Adam didn't care. He was sick of all of the responsibility that he'd shouldered lately. He wanted to do something spontaneous and childish for once, and Hoss was the perfect companion for it. "Race you home!" he repeated, kicking Chaucer into a gallop. He shot away from Hoss, grabbing his hat with one hand as the wind snatched the brim and threw it up. He heard Hoss shout something after him as he spurred his own horse forward, but he didn't stop to listen.

Adam smiled, even though each step Chaucer took jarred his ribs painfully. The dark feeling that had gripped him in Kensington's office was gone, chased away by the quiet breaths and the loud pounding hoof beats of the horses. He felt optimistic, and for the first time that day didn't worry about what to say to Joe. He would fix it. Maybe tomorrow he could even take Hoss and Joe fishing. They didn't really have that much work to do, and a nice diversion might be enough for Joe to accept his brother's apology for leaving him behind.

As they approached the yard, Adam pulled up gently on the reins and let Hoss canter past him, reaching the house first. Hoss dismounted and threw a glare at him. "You did that on purpose! You were winning."

Adam lowered himself gingerly from the saddle, smiling. "But I had a head start. I was just compensating for that."

Hoss' stern look melted, but he tried to appear grumpy anyway. "It ain't fair."

"Ah, but it is, little brother," Adam patted Chaucer's neck approvingly and led him toward the barn. "You won, fair and square."

Hoss followed him. "What do I win?"

"You win…" Adam looked around the barn as he led Chaucer to his stall, wondering what his brother's prize could be. "You win a-"

Adam broke off abruptly and froze so suddenly that Hoss stepped heavily on the back of his heel. "Adam?" Hoss asked, concern lacing his words. "Adam, what's wrong?"

Chaucer's reins dropped from Adam's hand. "Adam?" Hoss repeated, his voice sharp and outlined with fear.

"He's gone," Adam whispered.

"Who is?" Hoss stepped around him, peering into the shadows. The fading light drifted in from the window, casting abstract highlights on the leftover pieces of hay that covered the floor. It took Hoss' mind, semi-panicked with its worry for Adam, a moment to register the sight. "Oh."

The stall belonging Joe's pony was empty.

"Hoss," Adam said sharply. He spun around so quickly that Chaucer shied away, snorting nervously. "Check in the house. I'll take a quick look around." He climbed up onto Chaucer while he spoke and kicked the horse forward, his body automatically swaying with the horse as it leaped out into the yard. "Don't leave," he added over his shoulder.

Chaucer broke out into the evening, his hoofs landing lightly on the ground and kicking away in the same heartbeat. The sun was sinking behind a line of trees to the west, bathing the sky in an airy red, like a pale watercolor wash. Adam scanned the ground for any sign of Joe's passage, slowing Chaucer to a trot.

How long had Joe been gone? Had he followed them to Carson City when they had stopped to get Chaucer? Or had he left before that? A dull pounding behind his eyes made Adam want to squeeze them shut, but he forced himself to keep them open. The gnawing feeling was back. Something was wrong.

"Joe!" Adam yelled. He paused, waiting for a reply, but there was none. "Joe!" The silence mocked him, throwing his voice out into the air and letting it hang there without a response. Adam cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again. "Joe!"

The scuff of a horse's step sounded off to his right, and Adam tugged at the reins to stop. "Joe!" he snapped, relieved. "Why didn't you answer-" The words died on his lips, cut off by the sight of the horse that approached him.

It was his. The one that had thrown him when they'd found the robbers. It nickered almost apologetically, but Adam wasn't sure if it was sorry for throwing him or for not being Joe. He glanced around, as if his youngest brother would suddenly ride up out of the sunset, but the world was still. Adam sighed and dismounted, taking the reins of his other horse gently and leading him back to Chaucer. "He's not here," Adam told his horses dejectedly. "I shouldn't have left him alone. Heaven only knows where that boy's gone now."

Slowly, his movements painful and defeated, Adam climbed back into Chaucer's saddle and continued his search.


	11. Chapter 11

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Everything had gone according to plan. At least, according to Kensington's plan. Joe was still working on his.

Kensington had modified his original course of action, taking Joe's apparent lack of fear for himself into consideration. As soon as the boy had agreed to obey, Kensington sent him and Duriff to the stable to ready their horses. The doctor then spent almost half an hour hovering over the wounded men in his charge, changing bandages here, dampening fevered brows there. He kept himself busy until Mrs. McKarron arrived and gave her a brief overview of the conditions of the miners, relinquishing their care to her. Then, with a few more empty words of thanks, he grabbed up a black frock coat from a hook by the door, set his hat on his head, and left.

Duriff had already loaded their supplies onto Joe's pony by the time Kensington joined them. The doctor set Joe into his own saddle and mounted after him, so that Joe's back pressed against his chest, and wrapped the dark coat around the both of them. The effect wasn't perfect, but Joe was small enough and the coat was large enough to conceal most of his body. That, combined with the darkening sky and the fact that almost everyone had retired to their homes, made it reasonably unlikely that anybody would spare more than a passing glance in their direction.

Kensington had led the way from town after paying the stable hand, with Duriff following behind and leading Joe's pony like a packhorse. Joe considered shouting, but Duriff had made it quite clear when they were in the stable that if Joe so much as opened his mouth, he would ride off toward the Ponderosa, shooting at anything that moved.

They left town without event and, after putting about seven miles' distance between themselves and Carson City, chose a peacefully secluded place among some trees to camp. The horses were tethered to a patch of bushes nearby, standing comfortably and nibbling idly at the leaves. Kensington was lying on his side near the small fire they'd built, a plain gray blanket pulled up to his chin. Duriff leaned against tree a few yards away, his hat tipped low over his eyes, feigning sleep. Every now and again he would glance out, making sure Joe was still, or starting at a noise somewhere in the darkness.

Joe also leaned against a tree, but he made no attempt to hide his wakefulness. His hands were bound behind his back, secured by a short length of rope and tied to the tree. Just a precaution, Kensington had said, to ensure that Joe would remain safely in their care.

The boy had given up straining against the rope some time ago, and was now working on loosening his hands from the tight bindings. So far, all he'd gotten for his efforts were blisters and frustration, but the thought of giving up never even entered his mind. Still, the lack of effectiveness in his actions was disheartening, and the glances that Duriff threw him every couple of minutes were starting to get on his nerves.

The fire cast a soft golden glow across the clearing, wrapping the still forms of Duriff and Kensington in warm blankets of light. Joe pulled back against the trunk of the tree, biting his lip hard to ward off the pricks of moisture that threatened behind his eyes. Back at home, the fire would be lit, too. Adam and Hoss would be sitting on the settee, Hoss commenting on the good food and Adam watching with amusement, the barest hint of a smile in his eyes. If Joe were there, maybe he would ask Adam to read him a book. Adam would act annoyed, say he was too busy, or he didn't feel like it, but Joe would keep asking and eventually he would give in. Hoss would move over so Joe could squeeze between them, and Adam would stretch out to take up as much room as possible. The fire would light up his face, sitting on his eyelashes as he lowered his eyes to read the book in his lap. Joe would lean against Hoss, and Hoss would pretend to fall asleep and snore to interrupt Adam's smooth narrative. If Adam really liked the book, he would read page after page, chapter after chapter, his voice mingling with the snapping of the fire and Hoss' soft rhythmic breathing when he really did fall asleep. But Joe would stay up all night if he could, just listening to his big brother's voice soothing the world away.

He would give anything to be back home, with Adam and Hoss right next to him. He ducked his head as he felt tears clawing up his throat, squeezing out his eyes, rolling down his face. He thought he heard Duriff snort, but he couldn't be sure, and right now he really didn't care. This wasn't how it was suppose to happen! Why hadn't Adam heard him back in Carson City? Why didn't he realize that he was missing? Why didn't he come save him?

Joe was folded almost double, pressing his face into his knee, trying to stop the tears. _I can't even wipe my face, because of this stupid rope. _He hated the rope, and he hated Kensington for putting it on him, and he hated Duriff for always glancing over at him, and he hated Adam for not coming to find him.

Slowly, Joe's quiet sobs subsided, and he carefully eased himself onto his side. It was useless to cry. That's not what Adam or Hoss would do. Adam would wait, would plan, would bide his time until the chance for escape showed itself. _I'll be like Adam,_ he promised himself.

He started to plan elaborate means of escape, but after about half an hour the weight of his day pressed upon him and he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

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_Adam_...Everything was cold and dark, like the first rain in spring, pelting his skin. _Adam!_ The voice was the rain, and the raindrops were needles, piercing him and leaving tiny red welts on his arms.

"Where are you?" he called. His words shattered and were gone, swallowed up by the cold. Not even an echo.

_Adam_. The voice was a whisper barely tapping against his ears, but Adam spun to face it. Nothing… he turned again. Nothing. Black. Cold.

_Adam! _

"I'm coming!" The voice was warm, but he was numb. He started running, blindly racing forward into the dark. He couldn't see anything. Couldn't feel anything. All he knew was the voice, begging for help with his name. "I'm coming!" he promised, shouting until his throat was raw. But he couldn't even feel that. The whispers stabbed his ears above his yells, pleading.

"Adam?"

Adam shot to his feet, his hand racing to where he usually wore his gun. His fingers grasped convulsively at air for a moment before he remembered where he was. Home.

Hoss stood in front of him, off-balance, like he'd jumped back and hadn't landed right. "Adam?" he repeated, his face twisting with concern.

"Sorry," Adam coughed, forcing his voice to sound less breathless. Why was he so breathless? He sank slowly back to the settee where he'd fallen asleep only a few hours ago. He hadn't meant to, but after riding all day and then searching most of the night for Joe, he supposed he couldn't really blame himself.

But he did.

"Adam, maybe you shouldn't go lookin' yet," Hoss suggested carefully.

Adam tried an unconcerned smile, but even he could tell it wasn't working. "I'm fine. I was just… dreaming." It felt strange to say the word "dreaming", like he'd been standing out in the cold too long and his lips had gone numb. He didn't usually remember his dreams, and when he did he never took much notice of them. But this one had been different. His chest still felt hollow and cold, his ears still rang with the whispered pleas of the voice.

Hoss shifted his weight to even himself out and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I shouldn't've woke yeh."

"I would have been much more irritated if you'd have let me sleep."

"Still…"

Adam stood and glanced out the window. The first streaks of light were piercing the sky, promising the arrival of dawn, like a wire sent to assure the coming of a late stage. He really shouldn't have fallen asleep. Suppressing a sigh of annoyance at himself, Adam glanced at the grandfather clock behind Hoss and headed for the door.

"Wait." The word was firm when Hoss said it, but it trailed off hesitantly when Adam turned to face him. "Ain'tcha gonna eat?"

"No time," Adam murmured, already twisting to face the door again. If Joe was out there because he'd run away, he wouldn't be out moving before the sun came up. This was his chance to find him. If Joe wasn't running away… well, Adam didn't want to think about that yet.

"You've gotta have somethin'," Hoss insisted.

Adam glanced at his brother's worried face over his shoulder and sighed. _What am I doing?_ he thought resignedly. Choosing one brother's wellness over the other's. It wasn't the same kind of wellness, he knew, but Hoss was troubled here, now, and Joe... Joe could be waiting for him, out in the wilderness. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he wasn't. Either way, Adam needed to make up his mind between explaining things to Hoss and searching for Joe, and he hated it.

"Hoss," he began in the carefully calm voice he usually reserved for his youngest brother. "I need to go now. If Joe is out there… I have to find him, Hoss."

A slight frown pulled at the corners of Hoss' mouth. "It isn't your fault," he blurted in a tone that was meant to be soothing but came out sounding like an accusation.

Adam stiffened. "It's as much my fault as yers," Hoss went on quickly. "Y'did what had t'be done when we left him. T'weren't no one's fault."

"You don't understand," Adam murmured, glancing away. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his younger brother.

"I just think that-"

"I'll be home by lunch," Adam interrupted. "Do your chores, alright? And for God's sake, stay here."

Though he looked like he wanted to say more, Hoss nodded. Adam stood motionlessly a moment longer, wondering if he should say something to make up for his sharpness, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He snatched up his hat and gun belt, keeping his eyes carefully angled anywhere but toward Hoss. In part, he was afraid of the confusion and hurt he might find in his face if he looked back. He knew he shouldn't have been so short, that he should have tried to explain, but there was no time. A ten-year-old wandering around by himself was not the kind of thing Adam could leave alone, especially when that ten-year-old had as much of a knack for trouble as Little Joe did.

He left without saying a word and made his way out to the barn to saddle the horse that had thrown him the day before.

Adam spent the rest of the morning riding across the sprawling lands of the Ponderosa. He checked the places most likely for Little Joe to have gone, then the places that might be appealing to a ten-year-old runaway. No Joe. He checked every fishing pond and camping spot he'd ever taken Joe to, and several he hadn't, but he still could find no trace of the boy. He dismounted periodically throughout his search, kneeling in the dry dirt or soft mud and searching for tracks, but he never found any.

Only when the sun had risen to its highest point did Adam admit a temporary defeat. He headed back home dejected and frustrated, mentally reviewing places he needed to search yet. Short of combing the mountains, the only places he had yet to look were Virginia City and Carson City. After lunch, he told himself. After lunch, he'd ride into Carson City, and see if Joe had followed them there the day before. Maybe Adam and Hoss had just missed him in their haste to get back to the Ponderosa. Maybe Joe had chosen to stay in town overnight, rather than ride home alone in the dark. Maybe he was waiting in the hotel for Adam to come get him.

It was wishful thinking, he knew, but Adam let the calming thoughts sooth away his panic as he urged his horse into a quicker trot. He had been angling back toward the ranch for the better part of the last hour, and he figured he'd be home in just over twenty minutes. Then he could eat a quick lunch to pacify Hoss and be on his way again in less than an hour. That way, he'd have time to thoroughly search Carson City and be home before dark.

Already he felt calmer. Working without a plan meant chaos, uncertainty, and left room for worry and doubt. But if one had a plan, nothing was lost in shadows, everything was plain and simple. He didn't have to be afraid for Joe, because he had a plan to find him. His fear evaporated slightly, exposing the thin layer of irritation beneath it. If Joe wasn't in danger, then all this worrying Adam had been doing would be for nothing.

_When I find him_... Adam thought threateningly. It was easier to feel angry than scared.

His horse, Juniper, flicked his ears as Adam nudged him into a soft gallop. He'd opted against riding Chaucer again, partly to show Juniper that he could still be ridden, and partly to rest the horse who'd served him so well the day before. He wanted to keep Chaucer fresh so he could be ridden the next day, if he didn't find Joe in Carson City.

By the time Adam rode up to the house, his stomach was clenching emptily and his ribs throbbed out an angry reminder of the bruises they'd received and the lack of care that had been shown them. He didn't relish the thought of climbing back into the saddle, but Joe had to be found, and Adam had no intention of resting for more than the time it took to eat a quick meal.

"Adam," Hoss greeted as the eldest Cartwright stomped into the house. He was hovering near the table, which had already been set, his hands in his pockets.

"I didn't find him." Adam said, noting Hoss' glance at the door.

"I c'n see that much," Hoss frowned, sounding insulted.

Adam draped his hat over its hook and made his way over to the table gingerly. "You didn't have to wait for me."

Hoss shrugged and pulled out a chair for himself, but waited before Adam was seated to take his place at the table. "'S no fun eatin' alone."

"That statement from you surprises me, little brother."

For a moment, Hoss looked confused, as if he wasn't sure whether Adam was teasing or just in a bad mood. Adam smiled to banish the uncertainty, and Hoss laughed back. "Good thing you made it back when y'did, or there'd've been nothin' left. I'd only wait so long for."

"Well that's not entirely proper," Adam said absently, spooning a pile of mashed potatoes onto his plate. Now that the food was before him, his stomach felt calmer, as if the mere thought of eating could fill him up. He took a bite and turned his eyes to Hoss. "Anything while I was gone?"

"Nah." Hoss took a bite of green beans before continuing. "Just did my chores, like y'said."

"Thank you." They ate in silence for a while, and with every bite Adam took he grew more restless. He was about to excuse himself when Hoss spoke up.

"Where're y'goin' now?"

Adam paused before answering. "Carson City."

"You think he followed us there?"

"Maybe." Adam stood and crossed the room, snatching up his hat as he closed his fingers over the door handle. "But I haven't searched there yet, so it's my best bet at the moment."

Hoss stood, disregarding the food still on his plate. "I'll go."

"No, you-"

"We can split up then," Hoss insisted. "Cover more ground."

"What if Joe comes back here?" Adam asked, his words blunt and distinctly unquestioning. "He'd find no one here, and maybe think we're still out with the robbers. Then he'd just leave again."

Hoss opened and closed his mouth three times, searching for an argument. "Just stay here," Adam repeated. "I'll be home before supper." He opened the door and strode out, but Hoss' voice stopped him before he could close it.

"Good luck."

Adam faced his brother and nodded mutely before shutting the door.


	13. Chapter 13

Joe was cold. The night itself hadn't been too bad, but as dawn broke and the gray haze of morning started to wrap itself around him, he felt cold. His neck was stiff too, and his shoulders felt like a piece of rope stretched too tightly between a pair of trees. Joe struggled to his knees, using the tree he'd been leaning against the night before to keep him upright.

Kensington and Duriff were already up, the first pouring a cup of coffee while the other broke camp. Joe glared at Kensington until the man looked up. "Untie me," he demanded, amazed at how level his voice sounded.

The doctor smiled, the kind that crinkled at the corners of his mouth and left his eyes untouched. "Manners, Little Joe." He stood and walked over to him, the not-quite smile still hovering on his lips. He knelt behind Joe, where he could access the rope best. His fingers, made nimble by years in the medical practice, quickly found the points they were looking for and loosened the bindings on the boy's hands.

Joe gingerly moved his arms back to their normal position, wincing as blood began to flow back into the cramped muscles. He rubbed his wrists carefully, scowling up at Kensington.

"Well you couldn't expect me to leave you free," Kensington intoned, as if he didn't care one way or the other. "You obviously don't know what's good for you, and that will get you into trouble."

Adam had said that, too, once or twice, when he was mad. Joe frowned and looked away.

"I know you won't believe me when I say this," Kensington added, lowering his voice. "But it was for your own protection. Duriff hates children in general, and you have managed somehow to get under his skin. He'd not think twice of shooting you down should you ever try to run away. Remember that." With that, Kensington stood and returned to the fire.

Joe stared after him. What had he done to incur Duriff's wrath? Grown-ups just didn't make any sense.

"If you want to eat," Kensington called from beside the fire. "You'd best come now."

As if it had been waiting for Kensington's announcement, Joe's stomach growled. He wrapped an arm around it, feeling betrayed by the noise. Of course he was hungry, but he didn't want to eat anything given to him by these skunks. Hoss had taught him a few plants which were safe to eat, and he knew how to hunt. Maybe he'd go out and shoot a deer. That'd show Kensington and Duriff just how dangerous Joe Cartwright could be!

But he didn't have a gun, and he didn't know how to shoot an arrow. Hoss had shown him how to set rabbit traps, but Joe doubted he'd have time to catch anything before they moved out. He'd just have to make do with whatever he could find.

Kensington watched Joe curiously. Of course the boy must be hungry, but he was just sitting and staring down at his wrists, as if they would feed him. Kensington had minimal experience with children, but he was fairly certain that this was merely a hollow show of stubbornness. Joe would come to eat soon, he was sure.

He was wrong. Joe sat by the tree while Kensington and Duriff ate a quick breakfast of beans, bacon, and coffee, and never even looked their way. He was determined to have as little to do with the two as possible, even if it meant going hungry.

When they had finished their meal, Duriff repacked the supplies so they were carried evenly between the three mounts. Joe would be allowed to ride his pony, but he would be led by Kensington and followed closely by Duriff, and, if necessary, Duriff's gun.

"Mount up, kid," Duriff growled, pinching Joe's shoulder and pushing him toward his pony. "And keep up the pace."

Joe scowled at the man and climbed easily into the saddle. His pony flicked black-tipped ears as Joe adjusted himself. He was a handsome pony, lean and tough, even though he was a tad undersized. Joe didn't mind. He remembered the first day Pa had brought him home, a birthday present, so Joe could ride him into town with Pa and Adam and Hoss. His coat was a dark muddy brown with three black socks and black tipped ears and nose. Adam had made a comment about his size, and how he would fit Little Joe perfectly. Hoss said it looked like he'd been playing in a mud puddle, so that's what Joe had named him. Puddle.

Kensington, already mounted on his regal gray horse, started them off at an easy pace, Joe's reins held securely in his hand. Duriff sat atop a mouse-colored mustang, his rifle cradled almost carelessly in his right arm. They made their way back to the main road ("Because we've got nothing to hide," Kensington said), and headed off along the dusty trail as the sun took its first stretch over the horizon.

By the time Kensington called for a break at noon, Joe was both bored out of his mind and hungrier than he'd ever been before (at least, he couldn't remember ever being hungrier, but he couldn't really be sure). He jumped down from Puddle's back almost before the pony had stopped moving and stretched, moving his stiff shoulders carefully. Duriff barked out an order not to move, but Joe was already scouting their surroundings for something he could eat.

They'd stopped just off the road, near a couple of dry bushes that would serve only to drop the horses' reins on. There were no trees to break the flat surface of the skyline, except for the ones they'd already passed. Joe frowned in disappointment; there was nothing he could scavenge here.

"You, boy!" Duriff snapped, grabbing Joe's shoulder and spinning him around to face him. "I told you not to move!"

"I wasn't going anywhere," Joe protested, ducking out of the man's grasp. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Leave him, Paul," Kensington said lightly. "You can always shoot him down if he makes a run for it. He's got no cover." It was said nonchalantly, as if he couldn't care less whether Joe made an attempt to escape or not. The idea was tempting, but even Joe could see it would be stupid to try and run across open the plains with Duriff itching to draw his gun.

Duriff glared at him once more and stomped back to the horses, digging through the packs to get ready for lunch. Joe frowned at the man's back and looked around, as if something edible would spring up from where he'd not searched thoroughly. There was nothing.

Kensington crouched down a few yards from him and started to build a fire. "Little Joe," he called, "will you come help with this?"

Joe stared at him incredulously. Was he serious? Kensington smiled invitingly, but Joe turned away and resumed his hopeless search. "Joe?" he said again. Joe ignored him.

Kensington sighed and stood. "Now, Little Joe, I realize how, in your mind, Paul and I are enemies to you. I realize that you would naturally feel uncooperative. But you brought this on yourself by eavesdropping." Joe spun on him angrily, and Kensington held up his hands calmly. "You knew what you were doing. If you'd have been more ethical, you'd be home at your ranch now." Joe turned away again, trying to ignore the words. They were spoken calmly, which only made them sting worse. "Try to be civil now, Little Joe," Kensington went on. "And you'll get yourself into less trouble."

_Ignore him._ That's what Hoss always said when the other boys would make fun of him. _It's no good getting angry._

Just thinking of Hoss saying those words made him feel calmer. He tilted his chin up and sat down, folding his arms and shutting his mouth. Kensington smiled a little, an amused but humorless smile, and turned his attention back to the fire. "If you're not going to help, you won't eat."

Joe just looked away pointedly. Duriff grumbled something about useless kids and set to work getting the meal ready while Kensington studied the boy they'd ended up with. He'd known Little Joe was stubborn, but would he really be stubborn enough to starve himself simply out of spite? Kensington wanted to think that he'd eat eventually, but he wasn't sure. If he'd learned anything from his friendship with Adam, it was that when the Cartwrights found themselves some idea and latched onto it, not much could happen to break their hold. He just hoped Joe would come to his senses before they reached Stephens Flats, for his own sake.

Joe, however, had no intention of coming to his senses. He watched Duriff prepare the food silently, sitting cross-legged and cross-armed. The thought of breaking his stubborn and fruitless fast never even occurred to him. He simply accepted that he would go hungry as a fact, and neither questioned nor resented it. It merely was.

Kensington continued to watch him throughout the meal, but Joe never said or did anything. When they were done, Duriff kicked dirt over the fire and repacked their supplies, and Joe stood up, glaring, and walked over to Puddle. He mounted and sat still, ready to leave. Kensington frowned; this cooperation worried him. The boy was planning something.

Duriff climbed into his saddle, wearing his usual grim expression, and glanced over Joe's head at Kensington. "We going to stop before nightfall?"

"No," Kensington answered, settling into his own saddle. "We'll make camp at sundown."

Joe patted Puddle's neck absently. He liked riding, but spending that long in the saddle was not only uncomfortable, but boring. The longest rides he'd ever had to make were with Adam or Hoss or Pa, but they never bored him. Pa would tell him stories about when he was a sailor; Adam would recite poetry or tell him of Greek warriors; Hoss told jokes and pointed out landmarks and any stories behind them. But riding with Duriff and Kensington… he'd tried to occupy his time by planning an escape, but with every minute that passed his plans became less and less realistic.

Heaving a sigh, Joe looked up. Pa had told him once that the sky over the West reminded him of the sky over the sea, stretching on forever until it reached the horizon line in the distance. He'd said that a man could feel mighty lonely under such a sky, unless he had his family with him. Then the sky was a blanket, and as long as he had his family, he was alright.

_Pa's right,_ Joe thought glumly. He never thought he'd miss his brothers this much, and he hadn't even been away that long. But what he wouldn't give to have Adam and Hoss with him right now.

_Be patient,_ his inner Adam whispered. _Wait and listen. Come up with a plan. Think it through, work out a strategy, and then act._

Think it through, and then act. Wait and listen. The listening part was easy, it was the waiting that bored him. Try as he might, Joe couldn't come up with a plan. He started up at the pale wisps of clouds, like white horse tails feathered across the sky. Hoss had told him something about horse-tail clouds before. They meant rain. Rain meant that whatever tracks they had made when they camped or broke for a meal would be washed away.

Closing his eyes tightly against the white wisps, Joe prayed that the sky would remain cloudless and the rain would pass around them.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks for your kind reviews!**

Several hours had passed by the time Adam made it to Carson City. A quick scan of the main street told him that Joe's pony wasn't there, so he dismounted outside of the livery stable and checked the stalls. When he'd thoroughly examined every horse, he went to the hotel and asked if Joe had passed by. He hadn't, so he Adam spent the next twenty minutes brushing through every store on the main street, asking anyone he met if they'd seen him.

Adam's head hurt, his ribs hurt, his back hurt, and his hope that Joe had just wandered off somewhere was dimming, slowly being replaced by a panic so overpowering he could hardly force himself to keep searching in town. Ben Cartwright was a wealthy man; many a desperate person had been driven to drastic actions for less than what they could get from holding a Cartwright ransom. Adam didn't like to think about that, but he had to admit that it was a possibility.

He passed a saloon and, after a short bout of indecisiveness, pushed his way through the swinging doors and made his way to the counter. He doubted that Joe was in there, but it was possible that someone inside may have seen him.

"'Lo, Adam," called the bartender. Adam gave a short wave and leaned against the counter. "What'll it be?"

"Nothing," Adam said, scanning the room quickly. The saloon was comfortably filled with dusty cowpokes and a few miners, playing cards or laughing and each other over their drinks. He hadn't expected to see Joe, but still he felt a stab of disappointment as he finished his quick search. He was out of ideas. Where would he look now?

"Nothin'," the barkeep echoed. He was a friendly man named Todd Welcher, who, Adam believed, kept his saloon out of genuine enjoyment of the job.

"No," Adam sighed. There were three other men at the bar with him, two on his left and one on his right. The one on the right was a big man, broad-shouldered and almost thin, but encased in a layer of muscle that made him look easy to underestimate. He was laughing raucously with a thinner man who leaned on a chair nearby, his head tilted back to expose a thick, tangled beard. Adam looked away; beards like that rarely embellished well-to-do men. "Listen, Todd, have you seen-"

A heavy push to his shoulder made him choke off his words. The bearded man's harsh laughter rose up again, and Adam turned slowly to face him. The thinner man stood where he'd landed after bouncing off of Adam's shoulder, rubbing his arm and glaring at the one who'd pushed him. Adam held the big man's gaze, feeling only annoyance that his search had been interrupted.

"You gonna apologize?" the big man grunted finally.

Adam kept his face neutral. "For what?"

"Being in the way."

"You hit me!" Adam growled, then reproached himself silently for raising to the bait.

The bearded man leaned closer. "Well, kid?"

Adam felt irritation well up inside of him. This man was obstructing his search, was making him delay in finding Joe. "I don't have time for you," he decided, surprised at how low his voice sounded. He sounded mad. He felt mad.

The bearded man was not impressed. "Listen, kid. I been bustin' heads in barrooms since before you was cuttin' yerself shaving."

Why was he still standing here? This wasn't worth his time or effort. Adam turned back to the bar and started to ask Todd to keep an eye out for Joe, but the big man grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"I was talking to you," he growled.

Adam pushed his hand away irritably. "I'm busy," he punctuated. The man was drunk, that much was obvious, and looking for a fight. One in which Adam didn't feel like participating.

The bearded man made a mock-sympathetic face. "That's right, you're looking for your brother. I heard you askin' around earlier. Where'd he go?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be looking for him," Adam responded coolly. "Which I should really get back to doing. If you'll excuse me." He started to turn, but again the man pulled him back.

"I had a brother once," he continued, holding Adam's shoulder tightly. "He ran off and got hisself killed by Injuns. Think that's what happened to yours?"

And suddenly his patience was gone. Faster than even he thought possible, Adam spun and slammed his fist into the man's jaw so hard his knuckles split. The man fell like a cut tree, glancing off a chair as he went down and reducing it to splinters.

Adam resisted the urge to rub his bleeding knuckle and glared around the room. "Anyone else?" His words were low and dangerous, almost more eager than the indifferent warning he'd meant them to be.

For a moment, the saloon was deathly still as the men stared between this lean young man and their unconscious friend. Then four men were suddenly on their feet, sending their chairs crashing to the ground as they lunged at him. Adam had time only to step back from the counter so the stools wouldn't be in his way before they were upon him.

One reached clumsily for his wrist, but Adam knocked the hand away and pushed the man off-balance. He ducked another's swing and hit him hard in the stomach, then in the chin. The man fell back, surprised, and the other two rushed forward in his place. Adam tried to sidestep one, but the other landed a punch to his ribs that nearly dropped him to his knees. One of the men grabbed his right arm and wrenched it behind his back while another aimed blow after blow at his face. Adam closed his eyes against the pain and struggled against the grip that held him still, trying to duck under the punches and fight back with his free arm.

And then the pressure on his arm was gone, and Adam sagged to his knees. His head felt light, and his ribs screamed their pain at him, but he surged to his feet and tried to appear as if he was ready for another attack.

The fight now involved what looked like half of the occupants of the saloon. Everywhere there were men flying over tables and rolling across the floor. The four men who'd been fighting him were now engaged in combat with Charlie, Andy Harris, Matthew Carroll, and Jim Wilson.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Adam threw himself back into the fray, tackling a man who'd knocked Jim off his feet. The man yelled something Adam couldn't understand and started to get up, but the sound of a gunshot made him stop.

The whole room froze, turning sheepishly to the door where the Sheriff stood, holding his pistol up threateningly. "Knock it off or get out," he growled, glaring around the room. His eyes flickered with surprise as they passed over Adam, but neither of them spoke. After a moment, when the Sheriff had decided the threat of more fighting had passed, he shoved his gun back into its holster and walked over to Todd.

Adam leaned against the counter, holding his ribs. Charlie dropped to the stool next to him, smiling through a cut lip. "Y'know, Adam? I'm gettin' sick of havin' to save you," he said with a grin that suggested he didn't mind at all.

"Well I'm not," Adam answered, offering his hand first to Charlie, then to Jim, Andy, and Matt. "And this time Kensington didn't even have to send you."

"Kensington?" Charlie repeated blankly.

Adam felt his eyebrows draw together. "Kensington sent you as reinforcements."

"Kensington didn't send us," Charlie said. "It was that little brother of yours. Jack…?"

"Joe," Andy corrected.

"That's right, Joe," Charlie nodded. "He found us in the bar and said his brothers were outnumbered against some robbers or sumthin', and since we weren't doing anything anyway we should go out an' help. Wasn't that the way he put it? Hey, Adam, you ok?"

He wasn't ok, and felt like he'd never been ok, and never would again. If Joe had sent Charlie and the others, why did Kensington say he'd done it? Why would he lie?

Unless. There was always an unless, though Adam didn't want to face it. Why had Joe disappeared without leaving any tracks? Because he hadn't just wandered away, like Adam had wanted to believe. He couldn't have, not without someone else to guide him.

Adam sagged against the counter, feeling more pain than at any point during the fight. The voice in Kensington's office. It had been Joe. He was sure of it now; it had been Little Joe, calling out to him. And he'd left. Without even realizing it, he'd left his youngest brother. He'd abandoned him.

"Adam? Adam!" Charlie was supporting him, keeping him from slipping to the floor. He waved toward Matt. "Get the doctor," he commanded sharply.

Doctor… "No." Adam pushed away, feeling a slow, cold anger give him strength. This wasn't the quick flash of emotion he'd felt during the fight; this was different somehow, deeper, more dangerous. It was fury, cold and hard, the closest thing to hatred he'd ever felt. Kensington, the man he'd trusted and looked up to, had betrayed him. If Little Joe was hurt…

"Adam?" Charlie asked cautiously. Adam tried to force the feeling down from where it had lodged in his throat, but it settled instead in his chest and made it hard to breathe.

"Thanks for helping," Adam said shortly. Charlie still looked concerned, but Adam pushed away and strode for the door, into the street. It was not yet evening, but the sky was already dark in the distance, promising the coming of a storm.

Hoss had to know where he was going, but Adam didn't want to spend what precious hours he had by riding back to the Ponderosa. Pa should know, too. A sharp stab of guilt pierced through him, momentarily clouding the anger. Part of him didn't want to send the wire to Sacramento, didn't want to admit that he'd let such a terrible thing happen to Joe. He should have been able to stop it. Why hadn't he recognized the signs earlier?

"Adam?"

Adam turned sharply, glad that he'd been able to stop the burning in his eyes from becoming any more than that. The Sheriff was walking toward him, looking calm and assured. "Charlie told me what happened," he said. "You won't be held responsible for any damage."

"Thanks."

"Adam." The Sheriff stepped closer, his eyes hard and somber. "What's this about Kensington?"

Adam looked away, feeling the fury rise up again. "He took Joe."

The Sheriff looked at him curiously. "Just like that?"

"He did it."

"You got any proof?"

"I heard Joe in his office. Only I didn't do anything about it."

"Hmm." The Sheriff was silent for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You think he had anything to do with the robbery?"

Adam hadn't thought of that, but now that the subject was brought up, it made sense. If Joe had seen or overheard something, it would provide motive for his capture.

"You know where they're going?" the Sheriff asked.

Adam nodded shortly. "Stephens Flats."

"You're goin' after them." It wasn't a question, which Adam appreciated. It was an observation, one that the Sheriff noted and accepted without complaint. "Right then. I'll send Tullis out to the Ponderosa to tell Hoss. You go an' send your pa a wire, and I'll get my gear. I'll meet you back at my office when you're ready." This too was a statement, one that left no room for argument. Adam nodded.

The Sheriff turned and walked toward his office, and Adam took a moment to compose himself before heading off to send his wire.

Far off in the distance, thunder rumbled, rolling out across the plains and settling over the town. The air was thick, anticipating the storm that crept nearer, like a mountain cat stalking its prey. Adam turned his face toward the sky, feeling the cool, burning fury that had settled in his chest.

"Kensington," he said to the sky. "Wherever you go, I'll follow. Wherever you run, I'll chase you. And if you've hurt Little Joe, I swear, Kensington, I'll kill you."


	15. Chapter 15

At first, the low murmurs of thunder sounded like Joe's growling stomach, so he didn't take much notice of them. The sky had been growing steadily darker over the past hour, though it was not quite time for evening to lay its claim over the afternoon. A heavy wind pranced across them, tossing the horses' manes up and pulling their tails into long, streaming banners. Joe watched the coarse hair swirl about the legs of Kensington's gray, picking out patterns in the twists and twirls.

His boredom was matched only by his hunger. It gnawed at him, making his stomach ache and his head pound. He winced at every hard step Puddle took, wishing again and again that he could find something to eat. It just wasn't fair. He shouldn't even be here; he should be back at home, playing games with Hoss and eating as much as he wanted.

The wind threw a fistful of dust up from trail, and it danced at Joe's shoulder before catching the next blast of air and drifting away. He watched it go, wondering if dirt was edible.

_Make a plan_, his inner Adam reminded softly. _You need to have a plan._

Joe scowled into the wind. Maybe he didn't want a plan. This was all Adam's fault anyway. If he had just let him come along, none of this would have happened. Why should Joe have to do anything? He was just a kid, after all, as so many people kept reminding him. Adam should have to come find him. Joe would just wait.

But he couldn't wait. He was hungry, and unless he did something soon… well, he wasn't sure what would happen, but he knew it wouldn't be anything good. No, his inner Adam was right. He needed a plan.

His first thoughts were still of food, rather than escape. They needed to go somewhere he could eat. He just didn't know where. Hoss had shown him various nuts and berries that were edible, but he didn't see any of those nearby. Even if he could hunt (he could hunt, he knew, though he'd never actually done it before. It was only that he had no weapon), he hadn't seen any sign of game. Where else could he find food?

The answer was at the same time simple and horribly difficult. Town. Joe would simply have to find a way to get them to town. Which town, he didn't know, but there had to be one somewhere near them. But where?

So he would have to get Kensington to lead them. This was the hard part. Kensington had said earlier that towns were to be avoided as much as possible so nobody could recognize Joe, in case Adam was already looking for him.

"Paul," Kensington said, twisting in his saddle and slowing his mount to a stop. Puddle trotted up and stopped a few feet behind the gray, flicking his ears docilely. "You see that clump of rocks up there?" Duriff grunted that he did, and Kensington continued, "Go scout it out; see if it will make a suitable camp."

Duriff tugged at his mustang's reins and skillfully steered him around Joe and Kensington before spurring him up the road. Joe curled his fingers around some of the hair in Puddle's mane, wondering if it was possible to die of boredom.

"Little Joe," Kensington began. He frowned when the boy lifted his head; he looked like he was about to fall from his saddle. Would he really be stubborn enough to keep starving himself? What was the point? "Joe, would you like something to eat?"

Abruptly, Joe's back was strait and his eyes full of fire. "I'm not hungry," he said tightly. Kensington shrugged and looked away, though he would have liked to observe the boy further. An interesting family, those Cartwrights. One thing he knew for certain, though; no matter what Joe said, he needed to eat.

Joe knew this as well. As soon as Kensington turned back, Joe slumped in his saddle and whispered weary words into Puddle's ear. He had to find something to eat.

Why? There was food right there, right in front of him, in Kensington's saddlebags. Or was it in Duriff's? Or his own?

A sudden flare of hope flashed up in Joe's mind. There was food, right within his reach! He paused momentarily, frowning. Taking food from the saddlebag wasn't really any different from eating with Kensington and Duriff. But he wasn't eating it with them, he was taking it from them. That, along with his growling stomach, made him decide it was alright.

Kensington was resting on the pommel of his saddle, staring off in the direction Duriff had gone. Joe watched him for a moment to make sure he wouldn't turn around before twisting carefully and looking behind him. There were two bags slung behind his saddle, one on top of the other. Joe reached carefully into the left pocket of the top one, his fingers searching through the objects inside for something that felt edible. His movements shifted something that might have been a tin plate; it let out a metallic clang that made Joe jump. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, but Kensington either hadn't heard or didn't care.

Finally, his groping fingers closed around a small bunch of something wrapped in thin cloth. He pulled it out, hoping it would be what he thought it was… he leaned back into his saddle and carefully unwrapped it.

Lying in his palm was a bundle of healthy-sized jerked beef. He barely suppressed a shout of success and grabbed one of the pieces, ripping off about half of it and chewing it rapidly, almost frantically. He had finished the first piece and was about take another when a cloud of dust before them told him Duriff was returning. Quickly, he wrapped the beef back into their strip of cloth and shoved it into his boot. It almost didn't fit, but his boots had always been a bit too big anyway, and after a moment of pushing and maneuvering he managed to make it stay.

Duriff's horse trotted up to them, snorting a friendly hello to the gray and the pony. "It'll do for camp," Duriff anounced, glancing up at the sky. "There's a sort of lean-to cave that'll give us shelter from the rain."

Joe felt his high spirits dip a little. He'd suspected rain, but hearing Duriff confirm it made his hope for rescue drop that much more. Still, he had food now, and that was something.

Kensington nodded. "Good," was all he said, waving Duriff aside as he grabbed up his reins. He urged his gray into a quick trot, and Puddle stepped forward with a snort that sounded like a complaint. Joe swayed with the movement, ever conscious of the small bulk in his boot. His senses seemed to be focused on its every movement. Every time his leg shifted, he worried it would fall out, though he resisted the urge to reach down or look. The piece of jerky he'd eaten had only fueled his hunger, and he didn't want to risk losing what was left.

A low roll of thunder mumbled across the sky, then flared up as if it had been crouched over them the whole time, waiting for a chance to be heard. Puddle flinched at the noise, and Joe with him, though he tried to hide the movement. He whispered encouragement to his pony, partly to calm his mount and partly to calm himself. He'd never really been afraid of storms, but waiting under a sky turned dark before its time had unnerved him.

It didn't take them long to reach the rocks Duriff had explored. They were large, gray and strong, like the back of Kensington's horse, Joe thought. One was almost flat, and leaned up against the side of another to form a crude tent-like shelter with no back or front. Rain had started to spatter unevenly from the purple clouds, and the wind blew the tiny drops of cold water into his face. He ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

Duriff leaped from his horse almost before it had stopped and began to unload it. Kensington did the same and shouted for Joe to get inside. Joe was already climbing from his own saddle, but at the command he froze. Duriff's back was turned. Did he dare attempt escape?

As if knowing his thoughts, Kensington started out into the rain again. Thunder growled over their heads, and the wind hissed fiercely, but Joe still hadn't moved from his spot, half in and half out of his saddle, one foot suspended mid-air and the other in the stirrup.

"Joe!" Kensington called again. Duriff half-turned, and Joe blinked as rain pelted his eyes. Suddenly, a streak of lightning ripped across the sky, and Kensington halted his advance and even stepped back, his face turned up to it.

Joe took his chance. He swung back into the saddle and tugged sharply on the reins, making Puddle pull back and twist about in confusion. Joe shouted and jabbed his heels into the frightened pony's sides, but Puddle only neighed and lunged into a quick trot. "Run, Puddle!" Joe begged, his voice carried away by the rumbling thunder and the shrieking wind.

A bullet tore through the air and kicked up a furrow of mud, and Puddle took to his hooves with a startled neigh. Joe bent as low as he could over his pony's neck, urging him on with both words and heels. He could barely hear the sound of more shots over the cries of the storm, but he didn't look back to see if he was being pursued.

They were running, streaks of desperate figures pushing through the wind and rain. Joe had the courage to glance back once, but it was too dark to see anything. He clutched Puddle's reins tightly and spurred him on.

A flash of lighting split the dark clouds, and Joe saw a ghostly gray blur behind him. Kensington was following. A spasm of panic ripped at Joe's stomach, tightening the muscles in his back as he imagined a bullet finding its mark between his shoulder blades. He pressed himself low against Puddle's neck and fought the urge to cry. He couldn't lose control now; he had to think of a place to hide, some place Kensington couldn't get to.

One moment they were running, and the next they were down. Puddle's hoof slipped in the mud and the gallant pony fell, rolling to his side with a squeal terror. Joe had time only to swing his legs out of the stirrups before Puddle lunged to his feet, leaving Joe alone in the mud.

He wasn't hurt. At least, he didn't think he was hurt. He dragged his fingers across his eyes to rid them of rain and dirt, searching for his pony in the darkness, but Puddle was gone.

Suddenly, Joe heard Kensington's horse scream, and then something crashed into the ground near him. The horse screamed again, and Joe fought the urge to pull his hands over his ears to shut out the noise. Lightning illuminated the sky for a brief moment, just long enough for Joe to catch a glimpse of the scene before him.

Kensington's gray was down, its foreleg broken badly and twisted at a strange angle, screaming and trying to get up. Kensington had either rolled or been thrown to safety, and was getting to his feet just as the lightning flashed. Joe knew what was coming next. He tried to get to his feet and run, but he slipped and fell hard on his knee. He could hear Kensington shouting for Duriff. And then, above the thunder, the sound of a shot silenced the screams of the horse.

Joe scrambled desperately to his feet. Duriff would kill him, was going to kill him, was going to shoot him just like he'd shot the horse. He lunged forward, but a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him back off his feet. Joe screamed into the wind, but the thunder laughed at him, stomping out his voice. He fought, but there were more hands on him now, forcing him back.

"Adam!" Joe yelled. His arm was jerked back and one of the arms wrapped around his waist, lifting him up. He kicked and squirmed, but even he knew it was helpless. He'd been caught again. "ADAM!"

He was crying now, great hot tears that mixed with the rain and streaked muddy rivers down his cheeks. He struggled, but the arms were too strong, the hands had too good a grip on him. Slowly, he was dragged back to their stone tent and thrown to the floor.

Joe started to his feet, but Duriff drew his gun and leveled it at him. "Stupid brat!" he shouted. His finger jerked at the trigger, but Kensington pushed his arm away.

"You can't kill him!" the doctor yelled. Thunder roared over them, and Joe wondered why it seemed louder under the stone that outside. Kensington shouted something else, but it was lost in the groan of the storm.

"Then you watch him!" Duriff yelled, kicking dust at Joe. "I'm sick of this kid!"

They shouted some more, but Joe had stopped listening. How had he failed? He'd been given the perfect opportunity to escape, so how had it gone so wrong? His thoughts flashed to Puddle; he hoped his pony would find shelter from the rain. But now he was alone, with nothing familiar to comfort him.

Joe pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, suddenly feeling cold. How could he have failed? He wasn't likely to get another chance to escape. What now?

"Adam," he whispered. Tears welled up in his eyes again. "Adam… I'm sorry, Adam. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." The rain was splattering onto the floor near him. He thought about edging away from it, but he was already so soaked that he couldn't imagine it making much difference.

Kensington dropped to his knees and grabbed his hands. "That was a stupid thing to do, Joe." He tied them securely together, but left them in the front this time instead of wrenching them behind his back. "You'll be sorry for it," he added, almost apologetically. And then he stood up and was gone.

Joe didn't care. He was sorry now, sorry for everything. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, and his bound hands brushed against his boot. His jerky!

So not all had been lost. Joe reached for the cloth and unwrapped it carefully, letting it lay on the stone floor and picking up a piece. It tasted dirty, and was a little wet, but Joe didn't care. It was his small victory, the only one he had. He ate another piece, listening to the storm, and hoped that Puddle would be okay.


End file.
